


All This Time

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Series: HOLY Series [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, An asshole upsets our angel, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale has PTSD, Aziraphale snaps, Beez and Dagon having fun scaring the children, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley has three Bentleys now, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghost Hunting, Ghost Tours, Harassment, Hot tub foreplay leads to side of the hot tub sex, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nonconsensual Touching, Other, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Sexual Harassment, The Them thinking they're outsmarting than the adults (They're not), anniversary sex, rape is mentioned, rattlesnake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are going away for their 15th wedding anniversary. Dagon and Beez are left in charge of Adam and Warlock.
Relationships: Adam/Pepper (Good Omens), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Brian/Warlock (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Series: HOLY Series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095002
Kudos: 14





	1. Walk Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Things are gonna get angsty in this fic, get bumpy again for a bit.  
> The story title is a One Republic song. The chapter title is by P!nk. The song Crowley sings to Aziraphale at the end of the first chapter is HOLY by FGL and the song this series is titled from. Hope you enjoy the newest installment. ❤️  
> BTW. Monroe Hollow is pronounced Monroe Holler. It’s a hillbilly thing lol  
> The audio book they’re listening to is “Norse Mythology” written and narrated by Neil Gaiman
> 
>  **If my story looks familiar it’s because it probably is. I had a different AO3 account when I started writing. It got deleted for personal reasons and this new one started. All the fics from the old account got moved to here** ❤️💜💙🧡💚💛

**3 Years Later, Friday, October 27, 6:20AM**

"Why can't we stay here on our own?" Warlock whines as he, his brother and his parents walk the long drive to the road.

"Because you're unable to drive and the house is too far out for anyone to get to you quickly." Aziraphale calmly explains to his dramatic child. "I'll enjoy my anniversary more if I know you are being watched over by adults who love you."

"C'mon man, you know it'll be fun." Adam adjusts his backpack, giving his brother a conspiratorial look. "It's Auntie and Zizi."

"Now give us hugs before the bus gets here." Crowley opens his arms. "M'sure you don't wanna be loving on your Dad and Pops in front of your classmates."

Each adult takes his turn embracing his children and trading 'I love you's'. Minutes later as Warlock and Adam board the bus, Crowley and Aziraphale make their way up the drive to Crowley's new car.

He had traded the Challenger in over a year ago on a black Bentley Continental GTC. Yes, it is more expensive, but it is also the first high powered Bentley rated to handle well in inclement weather. It doesn't hurt that he has always had a soft spot for the brand and can afford one of the newer models.

Crowley makes one last round of the house, ensuring all is locked and secure, before sliding into the driver's side of the Bentley. Blue eyes, crinkled in the corners from a beatific smile, greet him from the passenger seat. Fifteen years of marriage, sixteen years as a couple and Crowley loves Aziraphale more with each passing day. "A whole weekend just me and you."

Aziraphale almost shines as Crowley takes his hand and lifts it to his lips. "It's been a long time."

"It has." Crowley squeezes the hand in his. They stare at one another for a moment, and then Crowley leans across the seat to kiss Aziraphale gently.

"I'm gonna romance the pants off you, Angel." The redhead murmurs against a soft pink mouth.

"I certainly hope so." Aziraphale whispers back, nipping at Crowley's lower lip.

Crowley lets out a ragged sigh. "I need to start driving, or else we're not going to make it out of the driveway."

Aziraphale giggles, positioning himself comfortably in his seat with a wiggle. Crowley has a difficult time tearing his eyes away but does to connect his phone's Bluetooth to the car's radio. A calm, comforting voice pours from the speakers.

"Oh, Anthony." Aziraphale looks at him adoringly.

"I knew it might make you car sick to read in a moving vehicle, so I downloaded one we'd both enjoy." _Anything to make you look at me like that. Do you have any idea the things I would still be willing to do to make you happy? This is so small, Aziraphale compared to the extents I'd go to._

Crowley is rewarded with another wiggle, as the serene voice tells them of Odin, Thor, Freya, Loki, and more of the Norse pantheon.

"The old religions are so fascinating."

Crowley hums in agreement, as he turns off their dirt road and onto the two-lane highway. "The audiobook is long enough, that it should last us the trip down and back." He lays his hand on Aziraphale's knee. "I know it's a long ride."

"I've ridden much further than six hours in a motor vehicle, if you'll recall." Aziraphale slides his hand under his husband's, threading their fingers together. "And with far less pleasant company."

Crowley purses his lips. His Angel is referring to a ride he’d taken sixteen years ago, one that brought a frightened man to Crowley's doorstep. A man Crowley has been head-over-heels about since he first caught sight of platinum curls and blue eyes. "I heard that trip ended kinda okay though."

"It did." Aziraphale beams. "Oh, my darling, it turned into a dream.

* * *

**1:08PM, CST**

Crowley takes the scenic route to Empyrean, Tennessee, extending the trip by thirty minutes. Aziraphale assured him he didn't mind. This route has less traffic, better scenery and more small towns.

They had paused to eat at a lovely family-owned diner not long after entering Virginia. Aziraphale feels a bit smug, enjoying the way his husband dotes on him and the looks he gets from others because of it. He no longer worries about what people may think of them together, damn the world and it's opinions.

There are times, however, an old voice will clog his mind with doubt and self-hatred. It's during these moments Aziraphale is hyperaware of how lithe and gorgeous Crowley is, and he begins to question why he's there with him, an overweight, overly anxious burden of a human being.

It no longer sounds like Gabriel when it does invade his mind and tries to swallow him whole. It's his own voice now, telling him he'll never be good enough. Not for his children, not for his husband. He has learned to hide his pain from the children, waiting until he and Crowley are alone and allowing Crowley to help him back from the abyss.

Thanks to medication, and ongoing therapy sessions once a month, it’s not as much of an issue as it once was. Normally something has to trigger these episodes.

They had stopped and taken photos at every scenic overlook along the way. Selfies of Crowley behind Aziraphale, his arms around his Angel's middle, head resting on the blond's head or sometimes shoulder. Aziraphale, one hand atop Crowley's, the other outstretched taking the photo, as they both lean against metal railings, backdrops of cloud covered mountains or beautiful valleys behind them.

Now, six and a half hours later, Crowley maneuvers the Bentley up a steep mountain road. Aziraphale quietly thanks God it's paved and not gravel. Crowley is a good driver but tends to go faster than he needs now that he has a vehicle capable of high speeds. It started with the Malibu, and progressively gotten worse with the high-performance cars.

The altitude causes Aziraphale’s ears to pop, as he stares in awe at his surroundings, a vast mountain range, covered in forest, land still untainted by humans. That is until you look into the valley miles below where the city of Empyrean can be seen, a small flick of humanity in the midst of nature's glory.

The road ends on a leveled area of the incline, and at a quaint cedar cabin. Crowley parks in the small, paved area beside the cabin's porch. Aziraphale shivers a bit with giddy anticipation, as the red-head opens his door and helps him from the vehicle. Crowley wraps a long arm around Aziraphale's waist and they lean into each other as they climb the steps onto the porch.

A roofed deck surrounds the entirety of the cabin, opening only on these three small steps facing their parked car. From where they stand, the front door is midway down the left of the structure, flanked by windows on each side. Below each window is a rocking chair.

In the far corner, before the porch wraps around the other side, is a hot tub, large enough for three. Crowley slides his hand against the hard ceramic and smiles wickedly at Aziraphale as they step past.

"I don't think so, Anthony." Aziraphale leans against the porch railing, looking out onto the valley and the city below. The rest of the area surrounded by dense forest.

"What?" Crowley's brow furrows.

"I _am not_ making love in a hot tub." Aziraphale turns to face his husband, hands on the rail, leaning back.

"Why? What did you read now?" Crowley drops his head, taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs.

"Well, for one." Aziraphale holds up his index finger. "It's very unsanitary and extremely rude of us to do so to the poor people renting us the cabin." He tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. "And two, the hot water can cause friction that can be extremely damaging to the tissue of the person being entered. I’ve heard some people never fully heal."

Crowley looks disturbed, squirming his bottom in the seat. "Got it. No hot tub sex." He looks up to Aziraphale hopefully. "What about hot tub foreplay?"

Aziraphale pushes himself away from the railing. Smiling, he settles himself in his husband's lap, grinding his ass down onto Crowley’s cock, resulting in a very satisfying whimper. “That sounds delightful."

"So, Angel." The words are breathy. Long fingered hands coming to rest against the front of Aziraphale’s hips. "What would you like to do first?"

Aziraphale melts into the touch, his head falling against his husband’s shoulder. Crowley’s left hand sliding under Aziraphale’s mauve t-shirt, his right skimming the waistband of his trousers and underwear. Crowley’s lips tracing across Aziraphale’s ear, jaw, neck and shoulder.

“Take me to bed, Anthony.” Aziraphale gasps as slim, deft fingers trace across his stomach.

“Would be my pleasure.” Crowley purrs. In one swift motion he’s standing and has Aziraphale in a bridal carry.

The blond yelps in surprise. He forgets sometimes, due to Crowley’s gentle nature and slim figure, just how strong his husband is. “Oh, my.”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth quirks upward and he growls seductively. He moves quickly and almost elegantly to the door, swooping down to grab the bag with all their ‘bedroom’ supplies as they pass through the doorway.

Aziraphale gets a quick glance at the living room and kitchen as Crowley hurries him through and up the stairs to the tiny loft. It’s just large enough for a bed, dresser and closet.

Crowley drops the bag onto the floor, and his giggling husband onto the bed.

“Undress for me, Anthony.” Aziraphale directs as he hurriedly pulls off his comfortable travel clothes.

In a flurry of garments they’re both naked. Crowley digs into the bag, finding the small bottle. It’s been so long since they’ve been able to go wild. It’s the first time they’ve gone away without the boys in 14 years. Sex these days is scheduled, when children are sleeping and they hope they won’t be interrupted. Noises kept to a minimum, so as not to traumatize anyone.

The fact they have an entire weekend to have all the loud, vocal sex they wish, is the most erotic thing Aziraphale has experienced in over a decade.

“How do you want me, Angel?” Crowley slicks his fingers, waiting for instructions on where to put them.

“I want you in me, Anthony.” Aziraphale bends his knees and spreads his legs. “I want you to make me scream your name over and over again.” He begins to stroke himself. “I want you to fuck me so hard and good I’ll feel it for days.”

“Jesus Christ, Aziraphale.” Crowley rambles quickly onto the bed, placing a slick finger at his Angel’s entrance. Massaging the outside of the hole, he leans forward, covering Aziraphale’s mouth with his own.

_Sweet Anthony_. Aziraphale thinks. _Always so gentle_.

Aziraphale is not in the mood for gentle. Grasping handfuls of red hair, he shoves his tongue forcefully into Crowley’s mouth.

A growl rumbles from deep in Crowley’s chest, feral and possessive. Aziraphale moves his hips trying to force Crowley’s finger inside him.

“Fuck me.” He huffs against Crowley’s lips.

“Not too fast, Dove.” Golden eyes stare into Aziraphale’s face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I spend everyday, with the sexiest human being God has ever created.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand, pushing a finger inside. “A-Ah, yes.”

Not breaking eye contact, Aziraphale’s wraps his free hand around Crowley’s dick. He’s panting as he continues, lost in the way Crowley’s clever digits move inside him perfectly. “I still want you all the time. Everyday. But our schedules have us reduced to three times a month if I’m lucky.” Through gritted teeth. “So fuck me, hard and fuck me dirty. Please, Anthony. I need this.”

Crowley watches him stunned. Unable to move, and more turned on than he’s been in years. Aziraphale impatiently grabs the bottle, slicks Crowley’s cock himself, swatting his hand away.

The red head looks hurt for only a moment before he finds himself flat on his back. An eager blond straddling his waist and lining his hole up with Crowley’s shaft.

“Angel.” Crowley stares up in awe. Aziraphale's whole body aflame as he lowers himself, slowly, oh so slowly, onto his husband’s waiting member.

It burns, but the burn feels good. He’s opened enough that there’s little pain and the pain that’s there aches so good. _Anthony worries too much sometimes. Still afraid I’ll break._

“Oh, heavens. You feel so good, darling.” Aziraphale throws his head back, riding Crowley slowly. “You’re so big. You fill me so nicely.”

“Angel, you’re beautiful.” Crowley guides his hands along Aziraphale’s hips and thighs. “The sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Aziraphale begins to pick up speed, moaning as he directs his husband’s cock repeatedly against his prostate. “Because I fantasize about you constantly.” Leaning forward, he pulls Crowley so that he is sitting up facing him. “We’d still be fucking each other every day if there were some way to achieve it.”

“Bet I can work out something.” Crowley gasps burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck. “Oh, hell Angel I’m getting close. Been too long, and this is too fucking hot”

“Come for me, Anthony.” Aziraphale drives himself onto Crowley harder. I-I’ll be right behind you!”

They scream in unison, Crowley’s seed filling Aziraphale and Aziraphale’s making a substantial mess between the two.

Collapsing on the bed, Aziraphale laying atop his husband. Crowley kissing his face, his fingers tracing circles on Aziraphale’s back. “That was fucking awesome, Angel.”

“Yes it was.” Aziraphale nuzzles into Crowley’s neck.

Aziraphale begins to think Crowley has dozed off, but then he feels the red-head shift beneath him.

“Don’t need to eat more than twice a day.” Crowley muses.

“What?” Aziraphale raises his head, confused.

“Could run home on my lunch break every day. We could go at it like rabbits, then I run back to work.” He looks at Aziraphale for confirmation on the plan. “I mean, that’d give us 5 days a week to fuck like teenagers while the kids are in school.” He pauses biting his lip. “We’d have to figure out something else in the summer months.”

Aziraphale laughs, kissing his chin. “You’re thin enough. You don’t need to be skipping meals.”

“I don’t want you to become dissatisfied with our relationship.” Aziraphale can sense the worry behind Crowley’s words. “That’s the kind of stuff that leads people to look for something better.”

Aziraphale rises to his elbow, and cups Crowley’s face. “Oh, my sweet, silly husband. There is nothing better. I never meant I was unsatisfied, only that I miss having you as much as I used to.”

“Three times a week then.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale’s palm. “Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”

“Deal.” Aziraphale smiles at him sweetly. “And I’ll have something made you can nibble on your drive back to work.”

“Perfect.” Crowley pulls his husband back against him. “Let’s have a little nap before we decide our evening.”

* * *

**2:30PM, EST**

Beez unlocks the door of Crowley and Aziraphale’s home, holding it open for Dagon, who is laden with bags.

“This is going to be so much fun!“ Dagon practically skips through the front doors, a duffel bag over her shoulder and grocery bags in each hand.

Beez smiles, watching her lope excitedly by. “Yup.”

Once Dagon clears the archway, Beez walks back out to the Camaro to retrieve the last arm load of food and luggage. They dropped their bag of clothes outside Crowley and Aziraphale’s bedroom door next to Dagon’s and carry the groceries to the kitchen.

“Do you want to make something to eat before the game?“ Dagon asks, putting away everything they’ve brought for the weekend.

“Thought I’d take you to Kali’s beforehand.” Beez squeezes her arm.

“Sounds great.” Dagon lights up and she bounces excitedly.

Beez loves how Dagon can make the most mundane, domestic things seem exciting. “Good thing the school is going to feed the kids. Would’ve been a rush to pick them up at 2:30 PM, feed them and have them both back by 4:00 PM.“

“So we still taking them ghost hunting, like we promised?“ Dagon’s expression is like that of a child on Christmas morning. Which, truth be told, Halloween is to Dagon, what Christmas is to most other people. One more thing among thousands Beez loves about her.

“Yeah. Brought the horror movies and Ouija board too.“ Beez can’t help but smirk, gladly excepting the giddy hug they are immediately wrapped in, and quick peck to the lips.

“You’re the best.” Dagon squeezes them once more, then pulls back, hands resting on Beez’s biceps. “Love you.”

“Love you too, ya big sap.” Beez blushes. Dagon’s so lively and excited for any idea Beez throws her way. So happy to follow where Beez leads her without complaint. Even after three years, they’re still trying to get used to being thought of so highly. “Now let’s get this done, so we have time to get ready, eat and make it in time for the pre-show.”

* * *

**4:00PM, EST**

Warlock, Adam, Brian, Pepper and Wensleydale walk together from the school to the football field. Warlock with his saxophone and Wensleydale his trumpet, both decked out in their full band uniforms. Adam, Pepper and Brian in their jerseys and game pants, mesh bags containing their pads flung over each’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be lots of fun.” Adam smiles “we always have such fun when they watch us.”

“Still think we’re old enough that Dad and Pops could’ve left us on our own.” Warlock grouses. “We’re not babies.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Adam argues as his brother rolls his eyes. “We’ll have a lot more fun with Zizi and Auntie than without.

“So, what did they say you’re gonna do?” Pepper breaks in, always as Adam’s back-up. Warlock rolls his eyes again.

“Watching scary movies.” Adam looks to her, his blue eyes affectionate. “Said we might have a séance.”

“Also going to take us out on Monroe Hollow to ghost hunt.” Warlock concedes. “He’s right, I guess, it will be fun.”

“Oh, you might see the ghost car.” Brian says excitedly, making eye contact with Warlock, both boys smiling wide.

“Ghost car?” Wensleydale looks to each face in the group confused. They’ve reached the field, laying down their equipment they seat themselves in a circle on the Astroturf.

“Yeah, you don’t know that story?” Brian looks to Wensleydale who is seated to his left, then to Warlock on his right.

“He’s sheltered.” Pepper says from Wensleydale’s left and Adams right. “His parents never show or tell him anything cool.”

“That’s not fair.” The bespectacled boy looks at his hands.

“S’true.” Adam agrees with Pepper, as he often does. “S’posedly, if you’re stranded on Monroe Hollow at night, an old timey ghost car might pull up beside you, offerin’ you a ride.”

“Only thing is.” Warlock continues for his brother, voice dropping in an attempt at sounding sinister. “There’s no one drivin’, just a disembodied voice and the car is filled with smoke.”

“What happens if you get into the car?” Wensleydale’s eyes are wide, his voice barely a whisper.

“That’s the thing.” Brian chimes in. “The only people who have lived to tell of it ran away, escaping whatever evil is inside.”

“There’s other stories too.” Pepper adds. “Of monsters and ghosts. They all seem to travel the whole road but focus on Monroe Cemetery.”

“Wish we could all spend the weekend with you guys.” Brian casts a sideways glance to Warlock. “Yours is gonna be so much more fun than ours.”

“Well, hold up.” Warlock pulls his phone from his uniform pocket.

**Warlock:** _Auntie Dagon, can we have Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale sleep over this weekend?_

A long pause and then.

**Dagon:** _Messaged your Pops. He says it’s fine as long as me and Beez sleep in the living room with you, to monitor._

**Warlock:** _I can respect that. Thanks so much Auntie_ ❤️

He smiles brightly at the group. “Call your parents we’re allowed to have a weekend sleepover.”

Pepper and Brian look at him apprehensively. Warlock hold his hands up and nods. “I know, but Auntie and Zizi are gonna sleep in the living room too.” Using air quotes. “To monitor our activities, as Pops put it.”

Adam and Pepper have been boyfriend and girlfriend for a year. Warlock and Brian have been steady now for four months. So, what used to be weekends of sleepovers and fun, have turned into a situation making everyone’s parents a bit nervous at the prospect of overnight stays.

However, the idea of two adults monitoring all movement should be enough to assuage any worries.

“Sounds great!” Adam pats his brother on the back. “This is gonna be the best weekend yet.”

* * *

**3:45PM, CST**

Crowley watches Aziraphale hang the last of their clothing in the closet. “Thank you.”

Aziraphale smooths his hands over a pale blue button up shirt after sliding it onto the hanger. “For what, love?”

Crowley reaches out, inviting Aziraphale to him. “For still wanting me after all this time.”

“Oh, Anthony.” Aziraphale looks to him, his face a mixture of adoration and sadness. Accepting the invitation, he allows himself to be encased in Crowley’s strong arms. “Only a fool wouldn’t want to be with you.”

“I love you.” The red-head utters into soft curls, their bodies gently swaying to unheard music.

“I love you too.” Aziraphale’s face rests against Crowley‘s chest, head tucked under his husband’s chin. His arms are around the slender figure, well manicured hands splay across Crowley’s shoulder blades.

It’s still doesn’t seem real to him, that Crowley could have someone this beautiful, smart and fun in his life. Not just have him but have a family with him. Everything his parents told him he’d never be worthy of, now in his arms.

Crowley is thankful for the influence his grandparents had in his life. They were the example he had learned to love by, the reason Crowley believes in true love and therefore refused to settle for less than his own. Crowley knows now that he’s found his, and that he could never again survive in a world without Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s stomach grumbles. Crowley smiles into his soft hair. “You getting hungry Dove?”

“A bit.” Aziraphale snuggles closer. “But I don’t want to let go.”

“We need to keep your strength up.” Crowley kisses gently over Aziraphale’s scar. “For when you want to ravage me again.”

“What if I wish to be ravaged next?” Aziraphale’s lifts his head to kiss along Crowley’s jaw.

“Anything you want Angel.” He tilts his head to the side, allowing the blond access to his neck. “But right now you need something to eat.”

As if in agreement, Aziraphale’s insides rumble again. Blushing, he lifts his face to place one last kiss on Crowley’s lips. “Should we go out or stay in?”

“Well.” Crowley starts, wide eyed and hopeful. “I was thinking, we would want to get out and experience the city a little too, yeah?”

“What do you have in mind?” Aziraphale looks at him suspiciously.

“So tomorrow, for our actual anniversary, I’m making the entire day about you. Dinner, dancing, and drinking.” Crowley lifts his left hand, sliding his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. God, how he loves his Angel’s hair.

“So tonight’s for you then?” Aziraphale smirks. “What exactly is it you wish to see or do, dearest?”

“Ghost tour.” Crowley gives his best pout and puppy eyes, which is very hard to do when your eyes are slit like a snake. “I already reserved our spot for six tonight.”

“Really, Anthony?” Aziraphale sighs, closes his eyes and scratches his brow. “You planned something spooky on a romantic getaway?”

“I like spooky. Big spooky fan me.” Crowley pulls his angel more tightly against his body. “Besides, spooky can be romantic.”

“And how is that?” Aziraphale smirks and Crowley knows his husband will give him this. His angel doesn’t normally deny him anything either.

“Fear makes the body release endorphins, similar to arousal.” Crowley spreads his hands across Aziraphale’s ass, holding him in place. “A couple hours of clinging to me for protection, and you’ll be ready to fuck me silly when we return here.”

“You’re already silly, love.” The blond kisses Crowley’s nose. “Sex induced or not. But yes, I’ll go on your ghost tour.”

“Thank you.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale’s hair. “Thank you.” His forehead. Aziraphale rolls his eyes and giggles. “Thank you.” His right cheek. “Thank you.” His left cheek. “Thank you.” His lips.

Crowley lingers here for a moment, enjoying the love of his life, his very best friend wrapped in his arms.

_Thank you._ He thinks and this time it’s not addressed to Aziraphale and has nothing to do with the ghost tour.

The kiss eventually ends and Aziraphale clears his throat. “I think it’s time we freshen up and go.” Still so close together their noses touch. Bright blue eyes flutter open to stare into gold. “We need to eat and don’t want to be late for the tour.”

* * *

**5:45PM, CST**

Crowley and Aziraphale sit in the lounge of a large cabin. They’re side-by-side on a loveseat, the fabric of which is velvet, a deep crimson color, with gold swirl stitched throughout. To their immediate right, beside Aziraphale, is a brick fireplace. Ahead of where they sit is a spacious living room, with the same comfortable seating for eight other people. The floor is glossy wood with a red tint like the walls only slightly lighter and a large rug containing a similar design to the seats, adorns the center of the floor.

To the far left is a sleek bar, behind which a handsome strawberry blond man and a pretty strawberry blonde woman offer drinks to their patrons. A sign hangs behind the bar reading, **Empyrean Ghost Tours. Complementary drinks available but must be finished before leaving on excursion.**

Crowley, his arm thrown across the back of the loveseat, leans close to Aziraphale’s ear. “You want a drink Angel?”

“Why don’t you do the drinking tonight? I’ll take tomorrow.” Aziraphale brushes red hair away from Crowley’s face, hooking it behind his ear.

“Thanks, Dove.” Crowley places a quick kiss to Aziraphale’s lips and starts to the bar.

The blond watches the sway of Crowley’s hips in his tight blue jeans and form fitting Black Sabbath T-shirt. He smiles, grateful he gets to hold this beautiful man in his bed every night. The only human Aziraphale would describe as temptation incarnate, and the sweetest soul that’s ever been breathed into life.

Crowley leans forward against the bar, when quite rudely, a man seats himself beside Aziraphale, blocking his view of his husband’s tight ass.

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale gives the man a tense smile, shifting away from him. “This seat is taken.”

The man looks to be mid 20s with a muscular build, strong jawline and dark hair. His clothing style is similar to Aziraphale’s. Only, rather than pastels and beige, our intruder wears a midnight blue button up and black slacks.

“By whom?” Dark hair asks pompously, gesturing towards the bar. “Your friend over there?”

“Oh, he’s not my friend.” Aziraphale starts and the man quirks an eyebrow in interest. Aziraphale quickly tries to correct. “Well, not just my friend, he’s-“

“Slumming it a bit are we?” Asshole interrupts with a wink. “Find that exciting myself when traveling.” He leans closer to the blond, placing his arm across the back of the loveseat. Licking his lips, his face inches from Aziraphale’s. “However, I prefer those of a similar station in life to my own.”

Aziraphale stands abruptly. _Slumming it?!_ He can feel the angry flush on his face. He’s never wanted to punch a complete stranger so much in his life.

“I’ll have you know.” Aziraphale tries to control his voice. He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself or Crowley by making a scene. He points to Crowley, who is admiring photos, presumably of ghosts caught on film. “That lovely man is my husband.”

He waits for asshole to look ashamed or apologize. Instead, he just stares up from his seat, looking much too pleased with himself.

“Husband?” Asshole smirks, glancing to Crowley, who is now speaking animatedly with one of the tour guides, while pointing at a photo.

“He’s pretty enough, I suppose.” Asshole shrugs, the corner of his nose curling in a sneer. “You should have gone younger, say twenty-five.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You know, something that would keep its appeal longer. You’ll just have to replace that one in,” He tilts his head in thought, “I’d say within the next ten years at least.”

_Something younger?!_ Aziraphale can’t even begin to disguise the disgust in his voice. _How dare this pompous, arrogant, horrible man reduce my beautiful Anthony to an object?!_

“Anthony is extremely appealing just as he is.” Aziraphale clenches his fists at his side.

"For now. But wouldn't you rather wake up each morning to someone twenty years your junior?" Asshole stands, once again moving his body uncomfortably close to Aziraphale's, placing a hand on the small of his back. "Someone who has money of his own. Can help you build onto what you have, rather than siphon from it."

Aziraphale cringes at the touch and pulls away quickly. "Anthony isn't siphoning anything from me. And never do I or will I plan on replacing him." He fiddles with the buttons of his teal button up. "What makes you think I have that sort of money to begin with?"

"So defensive." Asshole's eyes rake across Aziraphale's body. "The car for one." He casts a glance at Crowley. "I'm certain he doesn't come from that sort of money. Just look at him."

Tilting his head, attention focused now on Aziraphale's backside. "But as for his well groomed, well educated, well dressed, reserved and obviously well fed husband." Asshole raises his gaze to Aziraphale's eyes and winks. "It's beyond apparent why he's with you."

Aziraphale stands frozen in place. He's seething, embarrassed and on the edge of tears. The young man reminds him much too much of Gabriel in his youth. Asshole must interpret his silence as go in for the kill. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I like mine fat."

"Go to hell." Aziraphale finds his voice, hurrying away from this awful human. He storms across the room, hooking his arm with his husband's.

Crowley turns toward him at the contact, his excited smile fading at the sight of his angel, red faced and distraught. "What's wrong dove?"

Aziraphale shakes his head. He's not ready to tell Crowley some horrible man tried to seduce him by insulting him, calling him fat, and insinuating Crowley couldn't possibly love him.

"Just stay by my side the remainder of the evening." He looks into his husband's gentle face, his own eyes filling with tears. "Please.

"Yeah, Angel. I've got you." Crowley glances to where Aziraphale had been and at the young man standing beside the loveseat watching them.

"Alright folks!" The lady from behind the bar announces. "My name is Erica, this is my brother Erin." Pointing to the man with the same hair and eyes as she. "Welcome to Empyrean Ghost Tours."

"Twins." Crowley leans his head near Aziraphale's to whisper. "Spoke to them while getting my drink. Super nice, told 'em we have twins at home." He downs the last of his drink and places his glass on the end of the bar.

Aziraphale feels himself calming down. Crowley always bragging about him or the children to everyone he meets. He stares at his husband, with so much love Crowley must sense it. Topaz eyes and a smile turn to look back at him.

"Hope you've brought your walking shoes." Erin continues. "The next two hours will involve some footwork as we introduce you to some of the most active historical sites of our beautiful city."

Erica nods, smiling professionally. "Yes. Empyrean was founded in 1790, six years before Tennessee became a state. It's not a large city in the sense most of you are accustomed to. It's status has been earned by it's population, not by the number of structures or businesses. You will find there are very few establishments, and most are very, very old."

"Our small city has a rich history of monsters, romance and tragedy. The second of which is fitting for this evening." She looks to Aziraphale and Crowley, her smile taking on a more genuine feel. "We were informed earlier, there is a lovely couple with us tonight, celebrating their wedding anniversary."

"Indeed." Erin smiles, gesturing for the crowd to look toward Aziraphale and Crowley. "As a congratulations from us to you, your evening with us is on the house." He raises his glass of soda. "Hope you're love story ends much better than the ones you're gonna hear about tonight." The crowd laughs. "Here’s to many more happy years to you, Anthony and Az-az-rafell Crowley." He grimaces apologetically. "Don't think I got that right."

Aziraphale giggles, his mood lifting. Giving his most charming smile he calls out. "Close enough!"

Crowley kisses him for the room to see, and the last of his anxieties slip away. Some young Gabriel-esque jerk will not ruin this weekend.

"Now." Erica claps her hands together. "We will be splitting into two groups of five, the Crowley's, the Thacker's and Mr. Hilderbert, you'll be with me."

Aziraphale's grip on Crowley's arm tightens, it seems Asshole has a surname and it's Hilderbert.

"It's that man, isn't it?" Crowley's eyes train on Hilderbert, as their small group steps into the cool night air. Aziraphale can see the way the muscles in his jaw twitch, golden eyes glinting dangerously. "What did he do, Angel?"

"Said I was fat, and you are obviously only with me for my money." Aziraphale looks back briefly to the horrible man walking several feet behind them. "Said he likes fat, that he's well off, and I should be with someone young and rich like him. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

Crowley covers the hand resting on his bicep, protectively. "Aziraphale, look at me." The blond does as he's bid. "That's horseshit, you know that right?" Crowley grimaces. "You know I love you, money or not. It's why I still work everyday. So that I feel like I'm contributing something back to you, as small as that contribution is."

Suddenly Crowley's face transitions into a look of absolute misery. "I should've never bought that damn Bentley, any of my cars in fact. Should've just bought the cheap chassis for the '26 and stuck to driving around an old pick-up." His voice pleading. "I'm so sorry, dove. I can sell it all if you'd like."

"Anthony.” Aziraphale says sternly. “I have never for a moment believed you are using me for the money." He stops, pulling his husband aside, letting the group pass. "I have always thought you too handsome for me, but never thought you capable of any ill intent."

Crowley breathes out a heavy gust, clearly relieved. "And there's nothing wrong with your body Dove." He places his hands on Aziraphale's waist. "I love every inch of it." He kisses the blond tenderly, before winding an arm around his waist. The two of them walking briskly to catch the group along a sparsely populated, paved road, surrounded on both sides by thick forest. "I'm extremely bothered by the fact he wouldn't accept your no. That makes me wanna kick his ass more than the rest of it."

The lights of the city can be seen distantly through the tree line to their right. After fifteen minutes of walking, the woods to the left open to reveal a gravel drive and a large looming structure. Two stories high, beautiful long porch, it looks more like a family home than the sight of ghostly tales.

Erica turns, indicating the group to stop. "This was once the home of Angela Hauswirth and a stop on the Underground Railroad. At twenty years old, she fell madly in love with Joseph Green, an emancipated man and conductor."

Erica's lovely green eyes look upon each face solemnly. "One warm autumn night, bounty hunters followed a tip from a local business man, who had eyes on Ms. Hauswirth. They broke into her home to find she and Joseph together. The young man didn't live through the night and Angela ended her own life four days later."

Crowley emits a wounded sound as Aziraphale lifts his hand to cover his heart. "Why is the world so cruel?"

"Don't know." Crowley stares into the distance, lost in his own thoughts.

"It's said." Erica continues. "The two of them can be seen inside and on the property. Their love so strong, death couldn't keep them apart." She gestures broadly with her arm. "Feel free to take a few moments to walk the property and take photos."

Ten minutes later, Erica rounds them up and leads them again onto the paved road. Aziraphale looks at his husband curiously. "You didn't venture to take one photo back there darling. Why?"

"That was more sad than spooky." Crowley mumbles, looking at his feet as he walks. "Seemed disrespectful."

Aziraphale strokes a soothing hand up and down his spine. "I'm sure the other stories are much scarier."

Erica, overhearing, turns, walking backwards as she speaks. "Not all of the hauntings involve a tragic love story. The next three stops deal with humans meddling in the occult." She looks at Crowley sympathetically. "But the rest do. Sorry."

Over the next hour, the group is introduced to two more homes, these stories containing no romance and instead demonic and poltergeist influence, in that order. Crowley excitedly snapping photos on his phone, hoping to catch something worthwhile.

Aziraphale sighs, the three most important men in his life are all currently obsessed with those paranormal shows on the Travel Channel. The only time their living room television isn't showing something about ghosts or demons is to watch the news, Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. Some habits never fade.

"Look at this!" Crowley hurries to Aziraphale's side, gasping to catch his breath. "I think I got something."

"Oh, my, yes." Aziraphale gushes as enthusiastically as one possibly can, staring at the blurry image of an insect. The flash of the camera illuminating and elongating the creature’s image and causing it to appear to glow. "Definitely something worth sending Warlock and Adam.

Another twenty minutes pass and they are at the end of the roadway and standing in front of an old cemetery. Erica steps to the gate, placing her hands on the bars and proceeds to tell them of rituals performed on the grounds and of a large horned beast that has been seen among the graves at night.

The idea of coming face to face with something that has never been human, causes Aziraphale to feel a sickening form of dread. He shivers as a cold chill runs down his spine.

"Don't be afraid Angel." Crowley wraps his arms around him from behind. "I'll protect you. Besides, I bet all demons aren't as bad as they're made out to be."

"That's a very strange outlook to have, Anthony." Aziraphale chides. Sometimes the things his husband says in regard to religion make Aziraphale uncomfortable.

"Why's that strange?" Crowley rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. "I mean, if God offers forgiveness to humans, no matter what terrible things we've done, why not fallen angels too?" He pauses a moment, letting the question stir in Aziraphale's mind. "I mean, there wouldn't need to be some big end of days fight, if everyone ended back on the same side."

"Anthony, that's blasphemous." Aziraphale scolds, halfheartedly.

"Maybe. But I bet there's lots of demons sorry for what they did." Crowley kisses his husband on the cheek, releasing him as the group begins walking again. "And forgiving them would logically save God a lot of hassle."

"Your snake image suits you my dear." Aziraphale smirks playfully. "You asking all these blasphemous questions, like the demon serpent of Eden."

"You mean the demon the lost books say approached the actual Principality Aziraphale on the garden wall?" Crowley takes his husband's hand, lifting it to his lips. "If that angel is anything like you, I'm sure that serpent has spent these thousands of years trying to get back on his side. I know I would have."

"You're the only person I know who can make heresy sound romantic." Aziraphale sighs deeply but smiles brightly. "God help me."

"You chose me." Crowley drops his hand to pat Aziraphale's bottom. "There's no help for ya."

"You _are_ a demon." The blond giggles swatting his arm.

The feeling of warmth and playfulness doesn't last long. A small bit of walking later, Aziraphale watches Hilderbert fall in step behind them. Soon afterward he feels a prickly sensation on the back of his neck, a sort of instinctual discomfort. Aziraphale turns to see Hilderbert, walking much too closely, eyes locked on his ass.

"Creep." Aziraphale mutters, facing forward again.

Crowley looks back sharply, already well aware of who brought about the comment. His posture tenses when he notices where Hilderbert is staring. "Mind not shit-stain?"

Aziraphale hears Hilderbert's laugh behind him. "Hard not to my friend."

"M'not your friend." Crowley growls. "Keep your eyes higher. Have some respect."

"Of course." Hilderbert steps around them, winking as he passes.

"This is the Foggy Mountain Inn." Erica stops ahead of them, gesturing towards a small lodging. The front all glass, allowing Aziraphale to clearly see the young woman behind the reception desk from where he stands across the street. "We aren't allowed any closer, the owner doesn't like us on the property."

"Another sad one, but I wouldn't call it romantic." Erica looks to Crowley, as if to apologize for the story she's about to tell. Little does she know it will have a greater impact on the handsome blond beside him. "Twenty years ago, a man named Dustin, met and fell in love with a college student named Russell, both were from Lexington, Kentucky. Dustin came from money, a lot of money, whereas Russell was lower income, but motivated and charming."

"Dustin was swept off his feet." Erica takes time to make eye contact with each person in the group. "He married Russell a year later, and a home was purchased in Lexington, at Russell's request. Soon after the marriage, Russell became controlling and abusive, dictating Dustin's movements and cutting him off from friends."

Aziraphale, finding it hard to breath, reaches for Crowley's hand, as the red-head whispers. "You okay, Angel?"

Aziraphale nods, biting his lower lip.

"After four years of abuse, Dustin made his escape." There is sympathy in Erica's voice. Even after God knows the number of times she's told these stories, she still looks to feel for people she's never met. "Fleeing in the night and making his way to Empyrean."

"He escaped the same year I did." Aziraphale whispers. In his growing panic, he doesn't notice the worry etched on Crowley's face as he watches his angel carefully.

"Dustin acquired a small apartment in the center of town, leaving all his money behind." Erica goes on. "He got a job here at the inn, living happily for eight months, until a fateful night in September, when Empyrean police received a disturbing 9-1-1 call."

Aziraphale's throat constricts, his heart is hammering out of his chest and he can't breath _. Same year, same month._

"We should go, Dove." Crowley steps in front of him, laying his hands on each of Aziraphale's shoulders. There is so much tenderness in his voice, the sound giving Aziraphale something to latch to. "This tour is boring anyway and I'm tired. Let's get back to the cabin."

"That could've been me." Aziraphale can't control his trembling. As the tears build behind his eyes, he sees Crowley's glisten with his own. So much love and sadness on that gorgeous face, makes Aziraphale want to weep all the more.

Crowley cups his face. "Oh, A-"

"He was asking for it." Hilderbert interrupts.

"The police department said it was the single bloodiest crime scene they had ever had to investigate." Erica continues, oblivious to what's happening.

"Miss." Aziraphale gasps for breath. "Apologies, Anthony and I will be heading back now."

She looks to him, startled. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Crowley places himself between Hilderbert and Aziraphale. "Think my husband's getting sick."

"I'm so sorry to hear it." Her voice raises in pitch, her brow lifts in concern. "Do you know the way back?"

"Yes ma'am." Crowley assures her, putting his arm around Aziraphale's waist.

"Did the story upset you pet?" Hilderbert teases, almost maliciously. "The tramp deserved what he got if you ask me, marrying below his station. Probably asked for most of it anyway. If he'd really wanted out, he would've left sooner."

"Piss off." Crowley hisses shoving past the asshole. Aziraphale can feel the tension rolling off of him. He knows the only reason Hilderbert's not flat on his ass with a broken nose right now is because Aziraphale needs Crowley calm at the moment.

With no stops, the trip back takes a fraction of the time. The only sound as they walk along the darkened road is Crowley singing. Aziraphale has made it very clear that he adores when Crowley sings to him. And in times like this, when the panic sets in, it is the best way to calm him.

As per usual, it’s a song of love and devotion.

“When the sun had left and the winter came

And the sky fall could only bring the rain

I sat in darkness, all broken hearted

I couldn't find a day I didn't feel alone

I never meant to cry, started losing hope

But somehow baby, you broke through and saved me”

Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley, resting his head on his husband’s strong chest.

“You're an angel, tell me you're never leavin’

'Cause you're the first thing I know I can believe in

You're holy, holy, holy, holy

I'm high on loving you, high on loving you

You're holy, holy, holy, holy

I'm high on loving you, high on loving you”

Aziraphale closes his eyes, allowing himself to be led, concentrating solely on the raspy rumble of Crowley’s voice.

“You made the brightest days from the darkest nights

You're the river bank where I was baptized

Cleansed from the demons

That were killing my freedom”

Aziraphale nuzzles his face in Crowley’s shirt. They’re not too far from the car, parking lot in sight.

“Let me lay you down, give me to ya

Get you singing babe, hallelujah

We'll be touching, we'll be touching heaven“

They’ve stopped at the edge of the parking lot. Swaying gently, dancing under the moonlight. Crowley’s cheek resting in Aziraphale’s hair.

“You're an angel, tell me you're never leavin’”

_Never._ Aziraphale thinks.

“Cause you're the first thing I know I can believe in

You're holy, holy, holy, holy

I'm high on loving you, high on loving you

You're holy, holy, holy, holy

I'm high on loving you, high on loving you“

_Only to you, Anthony_. Aziraphale sighs, the night’s tension fading again. Crowley makes him feel protected. Cherished.

“I don't need the stars 'cause you shine for me

Like fire in my veins, you're my ecstasy

You're my ecstasy”

Aziraphale lifts his head. Crowley’s eyes convey all his love. His absolute and unconditional devotion. _He’s my save haven. My rock._

“You're holy, holy, holy, holy

I'm high on loving you, high on loving you.”

Crowley’s voice cracks.

“You're holy, holy, holy, holy

I'm high on loving you, high on loving you”

Aziraphale places a hand against Crowley’s jaw, cupping his face. Both of them saying with a look, emotions which are beyond words.

“You're the healing hands where it used to hurt

You're my saving grace, you're my kind of church”

Crowley dips his head forward, their lips touching, sharing one another’s breath. “You're holy.”


	2. The Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Them get up to some shenanigans. Crowley and Aziraphale have a talk and a nice hike, until an intruder interrupts their nice afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is the title of an Eric Church song. An OVULUS is an expensive spirit box device that can be manipulated to say what the owner wants it to. A footer is a foot long hot dog with sauce they sell at the Dairy Bar in town. Knock & Sons is a local steel producer, that sets at one of the ends of Monroe Hollow. Hope you enjoy.

**3:30AM, EST**

The living room is dark. Adam shuffles in his sleeping bag on the living room floor. Raising his head to glance at the adults, he sees Beez snoring loudly from his Pops’ recliner and Dagon is out cold on his Dad’s. He taps his fingers three times on the hardwood floor, then as quietly as possible, unzips his bag. Rising to his feet he tiptoes into his parent’s room, Dog padding closely at his heels. The Them follow in spaced out intervals, each tapping on the floor three times to indicate to the others that they are beginning their exit.

By the time Wensleydale, the last of them, enters the bedroom, Adam has already dug keys and a gadget from his Dad’s dresser drawer. He tips his head, to indicate the group to follow, leading them to the other side of the room and through the door of his Pops’ library.

The old personal library had been re-purposed into Warlock and Adam’s bedrooms. This newer one is larger than the original, with hardwood floors and walls. Eight, ceiling high, bookshelves stretch across most the length of the space, leaving enough room for three people to comfortably walk side by side around them. Along the left wall, the antique writing desk and chair have been placed below a window overlooking the front lawn. Against the back wall sets an old sofa, draped in blankets and his Pops’ wingback chair. The wall to the right holds another large window looking out to the tall pines and pond. This is where the children congregate.

“Stay here and be quiet.” Adam whispers to Dog as he flips the latch at the bottom of the windowpane before leading the other children into the unusually warm night air.

“So it’s really haunted?” Wensleydale asks, as the group approaches the garage door.

“S’what Dad says.” Warlock turns to face the smaller teen on his right. “Says the man who sold it to him told that the first owner was murdered in it.”

“But none of the other cars have stories like that?” Pepper leans against the side of the garage as Adam unlocks the door.

“Nope, that’s why Dad bought the 1933, he only wanted the 1926.” The curly haired boy pushes the door open, tucking the key away into his sweatpants pocket. “But bought both because of the story.”

Stepping into the pitch dark building, Adam flicks on the overhead lights.

“Does your Dad build rockets?” Brian tilts his head. “Every time I come in here, I expect there to be a hidden area where he hides his suits.”

“What?” Adam looks to his friend, forehead wrinkled in confusion, before glancing at his brother. “You really dating this idiot?”

Warlock shrugs, dropping his head to hide his smile. “He’s cute, he doesn’t have to be smart.”

“I hate you.” Brian sneers playfully at Warlock. “But, no, he’s got all these cars like Tony Stark, and he’s real smart.” Brian continues. “And I overheard your Pops tellin’ Dagon ‘bout how your Dad rescued him from bad guys. That’s how they met.”

“He’s got a point.” Warlock says smugly to his brother. Taking Brian’s hand. “That’s why Pops gets so nervous sometimes and Dad sings to calm him down.”

“Tony Stark doesn’t sing.” Pepper tries her hand at devil’s advocate.

“Bet he would if Pepper Potts asked him to.” Wensleydale smiles, very pleased with his counter argument. Looking as though he’s had a revelation. “Are you named after her?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She scolds. “Pepper’s a nickname. Remember?” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s right.” Brian chimes in seriously. “She’s named after a hobbit and an elf.”

“Exactly.” Adam states, a bit detached, busily turning dials on the rectangular device in his hand.

“Can’t believe you’re Pops bought your Dad an actually OVULUS for his birthday.” Pepper watches over Adam’s shoulder in awe. “Your parents are so cool.”

“On some things.” Warlock sneers. “But most the time, they’re super overprotective.”

Adam holds up a hand for silence. “Is there anyone here, who wants to give us a message?”

“Should we move closer?” Brian looks about. The group is currently standing in the center of the garage, half the length of a football field from the cars.

“Heck no!” Warlock stares aghast. “Not takin’ a risk on somethin’ happenin’ to one of Dad’s cars. I wanna see a ghost, not become one.”

“You really think your Dad would kill you over a car?” Pepper looks doubtful.

“Yes!” Adam and Warlock in unison.

“Kill.” Crackles from the device. They all freeze at the digital voice. Adam mouths, “ _It said kill.”_

“We’re you killed?” Warlock stands up straight, puffing his chest out.

“I kill.” The electronic responds. A collective gasp leaves the children.

“Do you want revenge on your murderer?” Adam attempts to slow his breathing.

The OVULUS emits static and then, “I kill you.”

At that exact moment Crowley’s 1933 Bentley revs to life, headlights flashing on. The large stereo system on the stage behind them blasting Another One Bites the Dust.

All five children scream, running out into the yard and back to the house. In their panic, they fail to turn off the lights or noticed the two adult sized figures standing in the well lit doorway of the garage, laughing hysterically.

* * *

**20 Minutes Earlier**

The moment the children stepped into the bedroom, Beez was on their phone texting Sal.

**Beez:** _It’s go time._

**Sal:** 👍🏻

Dagon reaches to the side table on her left, turning on a small lamp and looking out the living room window. “Oh, the lights just came on in the garage.”

Dog wanders to the side of the recliner Beez is occupying. They reach down pulling the small black and white animal into their lap. “Hope they piss their pants.”

“Beez!” Dagon laughs. “What an awful thing to say.”

“Little shits know better than to lie to us.” They’re actually not angry, just disappointed. “Like we’d stop them.”

Harry had called earlier that evening. It seems his assistant had overheard the children talking near the band room about sneaking into the garage. Apparently under the false assumption that Dagon and Beez would deny letting them near the cars.

“I have to agree.” Dagon is straining her neck a bit to watch out the window. “It’s not like they’d hurt the cars, and what my brother doesn’t know won’t hurt him. When have we ever told them no on an adventure?”

“Never.” Beez strokes behind Dog’s ear. “They’ll learn tonight not to try things behind our backs again.”

Dog stands, jumping to the floor with a yelp. He waits, sniffing the air, before bolting towards Aziraphale’s library, barking excitedly.

“Ah, must be on their way back.“ Dagon leans back in her chair to wait.

Moments later they hear a thud from the other end of the house, Dog’s incessant barking, and Adam trying desperately to shush the animal. More thumping noises and the sound of a dresser drawer follow soon after, before all five children emerge into the light of the living room, with looks of utter defeat and fear on each of their faces. There is a brief tick of silence before they all speak at once

“there’s something in the garage!”

“I think it’s following us!”

“It’s going to kill us!”

“Pops’ car is possessed!”

“I don’t want to die!”

The sound of footsteps can be heard on the front porch. The children, suddenly silenced, hustle from where they stand in the archway to the area behind the two recliners.

Beez tosses their blanket aside and puts down the leg prop on their chair. Before the children can fully register what Beez is doing, they are on their feet and marching to the door.

“No, Zizi, stop!” Warlock lunges forward to grab them.

“When have we ever given you a reason to lie to us?” They spin to face him, doing their best attempt at acting angry. “When have we ever not helped you get away with a little mischief?”

“Yeah.” Dagon crosses her arms, still sprawled back, feet up. “I’m feeling so betrayed, I think you should let whatever is out there in to get them.”

“Good idea.” Beez yanks the door open, all five children throw their hands out yelling “No!” in unison.

Jake leaps through the open door with a “Rawr!” Sal follows laughing so hard their face is red and tears stream down their face.

Wensleydale falls onto the sofa close to tears of his own, Warlock, Adam, Pepper and Brian stand wide eyed and mouth agape.

“That was awesome!” Sal wheezes out the words between sobs of laughter.

The sound of four small mouths clanking shut is comically audible.

“How!” Pepper is the first to find her voice.

“Ms. Harris overheard your plans and told Harry.” Jake smiles, throwing his arm around Sal as they lean against him catching their breath. “Sal here was your car ghost and I was the music.”

“But the OVULUS?” Adam shakes his head. “It said-“

“What I programmed it to say.” Dagon interrupts “There are settings, so that you can limit it to only certain words. I have it programmed to repeat the same three words without prompting, I’ll set it back to full vocabulary and proper settings tomorrow.”

“Dagon’s smart like your Dad.” Brian whispers to Warlock.

“Smarter, I think.” He whispers back. “Pretty sure Dad don’t even know that.”

“Don’t tell their fathers.” Beez, smiling, addresses Sal.

“Oh heck, no. The mayhem Crowley used to get my kids involved in when they were little.” Sal shakes their head. “You know what they say about payback‘s, my lips are sealed.“

“Thanks” Beez nods. Their tone turning smug, returns their attention to the Them. “Ya’ll gonna keep withholding stuff from us, or are we gonna make this weekend fun?”

The Them release a collective sigh. “Let’s make it fun.”

* * *

**9:00AM, CST**

Crowley slowly wakes, aware of the bright sunshine on the other side of his still closed eyelids. He reaches out for Aziraphale, to find the right side of the bed empty. Squinting, he lifts his head to make a quick search of the room. No Angel.

Slinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up, Crowley wipes the sleep from his eyes. Standing, he walks across the room, briefly entertaining the thought of putting on some clothes. He dismisses the idea, opting instead on the thin silk bathrobe hanging on the closet door.

Crowley’s mind wanders back to the night before, as the smooth fabric drifts over his bare skin. He ties the belt loosely around his waist, unworried about exposed skin. He can still feel the way Aziraphale had clung to him as they'd entered the bedroom. Needy, desperate, wanting nothing more than to forget a world existed outside the two of them together.

Crowley is more than happy to give, to be the place his Angel runs in order to feel safe. Crowley will do anything to ensure Aziraphale feels whole, protected and loved.

The sex had been incredible, but it always is with Aziraphale. Slow and sensual, the two of them taking their time, worshiping one another. And, God, the thought of the way Aziraphale moans Crowley's name is enough to make the red head hard again.

They had eventually fallen asleep naked, messy and a tangle of limbs. Aziraphale in Crowley's arms, head against Crowley's chest. Crowley had stayed awake until he was sure Aziraphale had dozed off, wanting to remain alert in case he was needed. Once his Angel's breathing had become deep and slow, Crowley had let the soft rhythm of it lull him to sleep as well.

Now in the light of morning, he stumbles groggily down the thin wood staircase into the living room. It's even smaller than their living room back in Oak Hill, with only enough room for a loveseat, old box style television and an equally old DVD player, both on an entertainment center containing approximately 15-20 DVDs.

The loveseat is a golden brown and decorated in a floral pattern. Crowley had seen a similar living room set in old photos of his grandparents home, the style dating from before his birth. A circular, thick woven rug with swirling pattern of black, red, brown and beige, lays on the floor in front of the loveseat. Over top of the rug is a rectangular, glass coffee table.

To the left, if one is walking down the staircase, and positioned behind the loveseat is the kitchen. It and the living room are one big space with no walls or doors separating the two, just a long bar. From the left to right, on the wall behind the bar is a shelving area, sink, stove, oven and counter space with a toaster and coffee pot. In the far right corner, where the counter ends, is a full-sized refrigerator. Above the sink are two cupboards on the left and right of a window with red curtains pulled to the sides. These curtains are smaller but match the curtains adorning the windows on each side of the cabin's front door.

To the right behind the stairs is the bathroom. This is where Crowley finds Aziraphale, just out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his glorious hips. He doesn't hear Crowley's approach, lost deep in his own thoughts.

The red head watches as the blond turns to the side, back to the door, sucking in and pulling up on his stomach. Aziraphale's mouth in a tight frown as he looks himself over. Crowley doesn't like where he knows his Angel's thoughts are taking him.

"Good morning, gorgeous." Crowley's voice is rough with sleep.

Aziraphale startles and releases his belly. He puts on his best attempt at a bright smile. "Good morning my love. Happy anniversary."

Crowley steps behind him, winding his arms around Aziraphale's waist, kissing him on the neck. "Happy anniversary, my perfect angel."

Aziraphale attempts a giggle but the sound comes out breathless and unbelieving. “I’m not sure about perfect, dear.” He looks down at himself and shakes his head. "Anthony, well, I mean...Well just look at me."

"I am looking Dove." Crowley turns the two of them so that they are facing the mirror. "And you are the sexiest." Crowley kisses Aziraphale's temple. "Most Goddamned beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth."

Crowley slides his hands along Aziraphale's chest and stomach. "You're strong, well built, healthy and active. Absolutely stunning, brilliant and funny. And the meanest bastard when you're angry." Crowley catches his eye in the reflection, and smiles. "There isn't a thing about you that needs to change."

Aziraphale turns to face him, draping his arms over Crowley's shoulders. "What if I wanted to change something up a bit? Would you be okay with that?"

"As long as you're changing for you and no one else." Crowley feels the anxiety churning in his gut, but he steels his face in hopes of not showing it. "And you don't change that beautiful soul or make yourself unhealthy, then I fully support whatever you want."

"Good." Aziraphale lets out a relieved huff and kisses Crowley's chin. "Get showered, I want to go shopping."

"Shopping." Crowley arcs an eyebrow.

"Yes, for new clothes. I'd like to change up my style." Aziraphale smiles hopefully.

"Why?" Crowley drawls the word out slowly, tilting his head to the side. "Are you startin' your mid-life crisis? You gonna buy yourself leather pants and a convertible?"

Crowley almost makes the joke about finding a younger man but decides that might be in bad taste after the night before _. Although_ he wouldn't mind seeing Aziraphale in leather pants now that he's thought about it.

"Oh, of course your sports cars are totally different." Aziraphale rolls his eyes, running a finger along Crowley's collar bone.

"I'm a mechanic! Cars are kinda my thing." Crowley feels a surge of the previous evening’s guilt. "And I told you, if you have an issue with me wasting the money, I'll gladly sell all of them."

Aziraphale's playful demeanor falters, he suddenly looks stricken. Stepping forward, he cups Crowley's face, voice a gentle plea. "Oh, Anthony, that wasn't what I meant at all. I was joking. Please don't sell your cars, darling. I know what they mean to you."

Crowley leans into the touch. "I would though. Anything for you."

"I know you would." Aziraphale reassures him. "You've done it once already, years ago, before you had hopes of money to replace it." Aziraphale kisses him sweetly. "Now get ready, we've got a lot of celebrating to get to today."

* * *

**11:00AM, CST**

Crowley holds the door for Aziraphale as they exit the small diner and turn left onto the sidewalk. Just as Erica had said, there are only ten establishments in Empyrean, all congregated along a two-block stretch. A positive outcome of this, being, it's very easy to park your car and walk anywhere you'd like to go. However, all the cities residences and historical sites are elsewhere, stretched throughout the countryside.

"I don't like it, Aziraphale, and being honest, I'm a little pissed off at your logic and the fact you lied to me earlier." Crowley's clenching his jaw so hard Aziraphale can see the muscles twitch. "You're not doing this for you at all. You're doing this for some piece of shit asshole.”

"Please, Anthony, we look so out of place together." Aziraphale frets with his hands, his movements skittish. He's never seen Crowley this angry with him. "I just feel it would be better for both of us if I blended with your style."

"The only time I've ever seen you wear jeans and a t-shirt is when you're helping me with yard work or we go muddin'." Under his breath. "Or when you're trying to hide from abusive assholes." Crowley's eyes flick towards Aziraphale, but he keeps his face staring ahead. "So, I know you're not comfortable out in public like that." He shakes his head, the hurt written on his sharp features. "It's not you."

"You have never been this way with me." Aziraphale fights back the urge to cry. This is the first time Crowley has spoken to him like this, the first time he's made him nervous. "Never told me I wasn't permitted to do something."

Crowley stops walking, rolls his head to the side and pinches the bridge of his nose just below his sunglasses. "And I'm not doing that now."

"Yes you are!" Aziraphale's voice is a higher pitch than he intended, the tears stream uncontrollably down his face. He feels sick, like the bottom has fallen out from beneath him and he's about to plummet into some sort of abyss.

"No." Crowley reaches for him, and Aziraphale fights the urge to step away. "I'm sorry, Angel if it seems that way. But from where I stand, it sounds like you're changing a part of who you are out of fear." He takes each of Aziraphale's hands in his own, caressing the knuckles with his thumbs. "And I love you too much to let you do that to yourself without saying something. Don't let some little prick make you hide who you are from the world."

Aziraphale hangs his head. Crowley is right.

Over brunch at the diner, Aziraphale had expressed he would like to change his style to something more like Crowley’s. That after last night’s encounter he didn’t want to stand out so much anymore.

“Angel.” Crowley continues. “You’re beautiful. So much so it shines out of you, drawing everyone around you in.” He releases one of Aziraphale’s hands, to push his sunglasses onto his head. “No matter how you’re dressed, people are going to be attracted to you, and manipulative assholes are going to try to manipulate. It’s what they do.” Golden eyes stare into blue, determined and focused. “Hilderbert would have hit on you anyway, attracted to that light like everyone else. Only, people like him want to own and control that light rather than bask in it. He would’ve found anything about you he saw as a weak spot to get into your mind. It wouldn’t have mattered how you were dressed.”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and drops his head. “Do you think I bring this treatment on myself?”

“No Angel.” Crowley leans forward, pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s brow. “Bad people are going to be bad, and that’s no one’s fault but their own. You’re irresistible, everyone notices you, but you only see the bad ones. The good people see us together and have the decency to admire you from a distance.”

Aziraphale looks up at him with an unbelieving frown.

S’true, I see them staring all the time. You get a lot of lovesick googley eyes when we’re out.” Crowley shrugs. “Can’t blame ‘em. I was just as lovesick the first time I saw you.”

The compliments are still a lot for Aziraphale to accept. There remains a small unbelieving piece of him that says he’s not. Not handsome, not strong, not worthy. But then there’s Crowley, and all the wonderful things he tells Aziraphale he is, things he’s never seen in himself. And Crowley wouldn’t lie. Crowley’s never lied to him, ever. So that in itself must make what he’s saying true.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale’s voice a whisper. “Instead of copying your style, what if I tried a more country take on mine tonight? And also something for hiking?”

He feels a surge of relief as Crowley relaxes and smiles, prompting Aziraphale to continue. “I think I’d like to walk the trails around the cabin for a bit during the day and then you could take me dancing there tonight.” He points across the street at a two-story country/western bar and dance club. The sign out front reads **, The Silver Belle Saloon.**

Crowley gives him a quick peck on the lips and then offers Aziraphale his arm. With the most beautiful smile he nods. “Whatever you want, Angel.”

* * *

**1:00PM, EST**

Beez hands Dagon an armful of white paper sacks and a drink carrier filled with sodas from the backseat of their Camaro. “Explain to me again why I just spent $35 on Dairy Bar food after we brought groceries with us.”

“Because this is what the kids wanted.” Dagon smiles sweetly. “We’ll know better next time.” She turns as Warlock and Adam exit the house. “Come help me and Zizi carry stuff.”

“Don’t eat that until you’ve eaten your footer.” Beez tells Warlock as they hand him one of the carriers of ice cream sundaes in large plastic cups.

“God, you sound like a grownup.” Warlock teases.

“Do not!” They give him their best scowl. “Just don’t wanna waste my money on food that’s not gonna be eaten.”

They grab the last of the bags and follow the group into the house.

“They’re five teenagers honeybeez.” Dagon laughs, once they’re all in the kitchen. “It’ll get eaten.”

“Honeybeez?” Adam chuckles, all seven people are gathered around the table.

Beez shoots him a look. “Laugh at her petname for me again and I’ll tie a brick to your leg and throw you in the pond.”

“You wouldn’t.” Adam continues to smirk, breaking his footer in half to better fit it on his plate.

“Wouldn’t I?” They sneer playfully. “Why’d you think your parents got two of ya? They need a backup in case one of ya didn’t work out.”

Adam sticks his tongue out at them, taking a seat at the table. Eventually everyone else does the same, the last to sit being Dagon who is busy finding space for the ice cream in the freezer so it won’t be melted when they finish their meals.

“So what’s our game plan?” She shuffles excitedly to her seat, everyone else halfway through their hotdogs.

“Well, sun goes down about 6:30 PM, so I told Tracy and Anathema to meet us up at Knock & Sons at 7:00PM and we’d all walk to Monroe Cemetery.” Beez takes a loud drink from their straw. “Gonna set up for a séance under the old buckeye tree.”

“Then let’s start the scary movies as soon as we finish eating.” Pepper chimes in excitedly. “Get us good and pumped for when we head out to see some real ghosts.”

“You really think we’ll see something?” Wensleydale asks, Beez can sense the fear in his voice. “My mother says there is no such things as ghosts.”

“Well, Dad and Pops say there are.” Adam speaks through a mouthful of chips. “Pops has even seen a few, and my Pops doesn’t lie.”

Wensleydale falls silent, Adam watching him as if challenging him to disagree.

“Which movie should we start with first?” Brian looks around the table, licking hot dog sauce off his fingers.

“We’ve got the whole Conjuring series.” Beez clears the last of the food from their plate and carries it to the sink. “Since they’re based on true stories, I think that’s a good pick for tonight.”

They entire room agrees. Everyone places empty plates in the sink and follows them into the living room. The ice cream remains forgotten in the freezer.

* * *

**4:00PM, CST**

The weather is exceptionally warm as they walk side-by-side along the trail. Immediately after their disagreement earlier Crowley had felt relieved that Aziraphale wasn’t going to let himself be bullied into submission again by a manipulative dick.

However, as the day progressed, Crowley began to grow increasingly guilt-ridden. Second-guessing how he handled himself, how he treated Aziraphale. Had he been controlling? Had he dictated to his angel what he wanted rather than accepting what Aziraphale wanted?

But it felt worse letting Aziraphale hide who he is out of fear. The entire ordeal left Crowley feeling like he couldn’t win no matter what he did. Like he’s walking on egg shells, terrified his next move might be what breaks Aziraphale, might be the final straw that pushes his angel away.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped earlier.” Crowley stares at his feet as they walk. “I’d never tell you what you can and can’t do, that’s not how I meant it.”

“I know.” Aziraphale says sweetly hooking his arm through Crowley‘s. The blonde is sweating, the dampness glistens on his brow. They’ve been in the forest nearly an hour and a half and are currently making their way back to the cabin.

”At first your anger took me off guard, but after some thought, I realized you were once again trying to save me. This time from my own mind.” He places his free hand on Crowley’s bicep and squeezes. “I am the one who should be sorry.”

Crowley is momentarily struck silent by the apology, unable to comprehend why his angel feels the need to apologize. “For what?”

“For letting that man get in my head.” Aziraphale removes his hand from Crowley’s upper arm. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket he wipes the sweat from his eyes and forehead. “I’m going to say something, but I want you to promise not to be upset with me.”

“I promise, Angel.” Crowley restrains his features. He doesn’t want Aziraphale to see how nervous he is, and he definitely doesn’t want his face to convey anything that might make his husband pull away.

“He reminded me of Gabriel.” Aziraphale stops walking, letting his hands slide down to Crowley‘s. They turn to face one another. “So much so, he was able to worm his way into my head much too easily.”

He stares at their joined hands. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s as if I’m still conditioned to that sort of treatment.” Crowley feels his heart shatter, as the most beautiful blue eyes look into his own, full of tears. “And I thought I was past it all. I thought I was doing so well.”

Aziraphale falls forward, pulling Crowley close, laying his head on the red head’s shoulder. “I’m sorry dear. I’m so, so sorry that I’m weak.” His voice a whisper. “And I’m sorry that it’s him I’m still allowing to do this to me.”

Crowley kisses Aziraphale’s scar, shushing into soft hair. “You don’t have to be sorry, dove.” He leans his cheek against sweat damp curls. “You’re so strong Aziraphale. So unbelievably strong.”

The blond squeezes his arms tightly around Crowley’s waist, as the red-head begins to hum. A song forming on his lips when he hears a low rattle and freezes. Looking down his fears are confirmed. A sudden intense dread settles into the pit of Crowley’s stomach at the sight of the rattlesnake a mere 8 feet from Aziraphale’s heels.

“Angel.” Crowley whispers next to his husband’s ear. “I would never cut you short unless I had to, but right now I need you to very quietly and slowly get behind me.”

Aziraphale lifts his head, eyes bloodshot and frightened. He simply nods, allowing Crowley to pull him to his left, away from the snake. The slender red-head slides around the blond smoothly, both their backs to the edge of the trail and the tree line. He hears Aziraphale gasp, finally able to see the cause of Crowley’s alarm.

“Move with me.” Crowley keeps his voice calm and monotone, never breaking eye contact with the reptile. “When I say run, you run as fast and as hard as you can for the cabin, and don’t look back.”

Aziraphale whimpers in response. The viper is positioned on the opposite side of the path, directly in front of where they stand.

Crowley shuffling slowly to his left, feels Aziraphale moving with him, his Angel’s hands bunched in the back of his black T-shirt.

“That’s right.” Crowley coos in an attempt to keep himself, Aziraphale and the snake calm. “We’re just going to be on our way, really slow like, and no one is going to hurt anyone involved.”

The reptile turns it’s head, following their movements. It hisses, rattling it’s tail, but does not move. Crowley glances to his left, spying a large stick, he bends over slowly and retrieves it.

“Turn around Angel. Wait for my word,the cabin’s not far.” Stick in hand, Crowley keeps his back to Aziraphale, eyes never leaving the viper. He knows the end of the trail is within sight behind him. The cabin only thirty feet away. “Don’t stop. Get inside and wait for me.”

“Anthony.” Aziraphale begins to argue. The snake hisses and slithers closer.

“It’s a timber rattler, Dove. They’re aggressive. From this distance I can’t outrun it, but I can handle it.” He hears Aziraphale’s shaking breaths. “You’ll only distract me.”

The talking seems to piss the snake off, but Crowley knows their presence in general is enough for the animal to want to attack. Crowley has always loved snakes, he feels of sort of kinship with them, but not this breed. This particular snake is vicious and is known to bite without provocation.

“Fuck!” Crowley yelps as the rattler surges towards them. “Run, Aziraphale, go!”

“Anthony.” Aziraphale sobs.

“Goddammit!” Crowley shuffles backwards, afraid to take his eyes off the animal. It’s moving in their direction at a rapid rate. “Go Aziraphale or you’ll get us both killed! I need to be able to move!”

Something in his words must finally click in his husband’s mind because Crowley finally hears the crunch of earth as Aziraphale breaks into a run.

_Thank God_ is his last thought before the viper strikes.

* * *

As much as Aziraphale hates to leave Crowley, he trusts that his husband knows best in these situations. He’s also thankful they both stay so active. Opposite of popular belief, one can be overweight and still a healthy, strong runner.

_Really, that’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?_ Aziraphale thinks to himself as he runs across the cabins lawn _. I run away, I stay the burden and Anthony carries us all._

He hits the porch and bounds up the steps. Leaning against the railing, facing the trail opening, Aziraphale waits. There is no sound, no movement and with each passing second he can feel his anxiety steadily rising.

No more than five minutes pass, but to Aziraphale it feels like an eternity. He knows practically nothing about reptiles, but one thing he does know is a rattlesnake venom is deadly. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. He can’t lose Crowley, he just can’t. Aziraphale won’t be able to function without him, the boys would be devastated if something were to happen to their Dad. Life, the only good, decent life Aziraphale has ever had, will end if Crowley’s not there.

Another minute passes and Aziraphale can’t stand to wait anymore. He starts to run back to where he last saw his husband. He is midway across the yard when Crowley emerges, limping and obviously in pain.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale is in a full speed run.

_Please God. Please don’t let this be what I think it is._ He pleads as he rushes to gather his love into his arms.

“Oof!” The air is knocked out of Crowley, as he’s hit with two arms full of blond. “I’m okay, Angel.”

“Are you?” Aziraphale pulls back from the embrace, his terrified expression staring back at him through the lenses of Crowley’s shades. A horrifying thought hits him and he drops to his knees, tugging up at the cuff of his husband’s jeans. “Oh, God. You’re limping! Were you-“

“No, Dove.” Crowley cuts him off, falling to his knees in front of Aziraphale with a grimace. “I wasn’t bit. I twisted my ankle when it lunged at me.” Crowley says, on the verge of crying. “I tried to immobilize it by holding its head down with a stick so I could catch it and later release it a safe distance from us. But it moved too fast and so did I and I lost my balance when my ankle twisted. I came down too hard on it’s head.” Tears begin to stream below his glasses. “I killed it Aziraphale.”

“It tried to kill you, Anthony.” Aziraphale wipes tears from sharp cheekbones.

“But it didn’t know any better.” Crowley looks at him with such guilt. The poor dear hates to kill anything needlessly. He believes an animal should only die if it’s to be eaten or you’re protecting someone from the animal. And only then if there’s no other alternative.

“It tried to kill me, darling.” And there, that does it. Crowley sees nothing as having value, if it’s worth is weighed against the worth and safety of Aziraphale or their children.

“Well, then, it should’ve known better.” Crowley chuckles through his tears.

“Yes, it should have.” Aziraphale rises to his feet, helping Crowley stand as well, then pulling him close and crashing their lips together. One hand in Crowley‘s hair the other at the small of the redheads back, holding him firmly against Aziraphale’s body. The kiss is desperate and frenzied, mouths parting quickly, tongues searching deep. Crowley‘s hands fall to Aziraphale’s ass, pulling the two of them even harder together. Crowley squeezes the plush mounds of flesh and Aziraphale’s excitement presses against Crowley’s, too much fabric separating them.

“Let’s get you back to the cabin.” Aziraphale’s lips inches from Crowley’s, as they pull apart, breathing hard. “I think I need to take care of you.”


	3. If Money Didn't Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is side of hot tub sex, graveyard seances that actually work, and an ice cream fight. And Hilderbert makes another appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Granger Smith song. Hannah Jones is actually a ghostly encounter that’s been had around these parts, but she’s not related to a car lol. Never heard a first name for Shadwell, so I made up one for him.
> 
> Fenrir is the name of a giant wolf from Norse mythology, who also happens to be the illegitimate child of the god Loki.  
> Enjoy ❤️💚

**5:00PM, CST**

Crowley engulfs all but his head in the steaming water, the bubbles tickling under his chin, the spray jets on high. He’s naked, seated on the porcelain seat that juts out midway down and circling the whole of the hot tub’s inner wall. His legs hanging down to the floor of the tub, Crowley wiggles his feet in front of a jet-stream, letting the bubbles push past his toes.

Aziraphale steps out of the cabin, also nude, a towel over each shoulder, small shower bag hanging from his wrist by it’s tie strings and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries in his hands. They had purchased the strawberries at a grocer in town and the contents of the bag in a more discrete establishment just on the outskirts of the city.

Aziraphale spreads one towel out on the wooden platform surrounding the outside of the hot tub to Crowley’s left. He sets the tray of strawberries, the other towel and the small bag on his right within his and Crowley’s reach and slides himself into the water beside his husband.

Wrapping one arm around Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale pulls the red head into his lap. “Do you really think the hot tub is a good idea? Aren’t you to ice an injury like that?”

“I didn’t sprain it, Angel.” Crowley pulls a strawberry from the tray. Leaning back against Aziraphale’s chest, head falling onto the blond’s shoulder. Crowley places the fruit to his husband’s lips. He savors the sight of Aziraphale taking the morsel into his mouth and the sound of his moan when he does so. “I twisted it. Pulled the muscle little. Doesn’t even hurt now.”

Aziraphale swallows, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you certain?” This time the blond reaches onto the tray, offering Crowley a bit of fruit and chocolate. Crowley loves the way his husband shivers in the heated water, as he growls and snatches the offered food from Aziraphale’s fingers with a snap of his teeth. His Angel’s cock twitching between them. “I wouldn’t be upset if you wanted to stay in and watch movies this evening.”

“No.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale on the pulse point of his throat. “Promised you drinking and dancing and I’m going to deliver.”

“You’re too good to me.” Aziraphale snatches another dipped strawberry, lowering it towards Crowley’s mouth. Just as the red-head leans forward to bite, Aziraphale snatches it away with a coy smile, placing the fruit between his own lips.

“So that’s how it is?” Crowley purrs, whipping around quickly yet gracefully in the water, causing it to wake against the sides.

“Mhmmmm.” Aziraphale leans back, smiling around the offering in his mouth. Like a serpent strike, Crowley’s mouth is on his and then gone, half the strawberry taken as well. Aziraphale swallows his portion and kisses Crowley’s temple. “Sit up darling. I want to spoil you.”

“Hot tub foreplay?” Crowley asks, sounding a bit like an excited child. He loves Aziraphale’s hands on him. Loves his Angel near. The more touching, caressing and declarations of love leading up to the act, the better the sex in Crowley’s opinion.

“Yes love.” Aziraphale laughs reaching into the shower bag. He removes from inside a small bottle of colorless, odorless liquid. Lathering the substance on his hands. “You’re certain this stuff won’t damage the hot tub?”

“Positive.” Crowley allows Aziraphale to move his upper body forward. “The guy said it’s water soluble, but if it causes a mess I’ll drain the tub and clean it myself.”

Aziraphale hums in approval, and strong, well-manicured hands knead into the muscles of Crowley’s neck and shoulders. He sighs, melting into the touch.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself somewhat.” Crowley’s head falls back. _God his hands are like heaven._ “Sorry everything’s been chaotic.”

“That’s been my entire existence, darling.” Aziraphale continue his magic, moving down Crowley’s back. “The only thing that’s ever gone well in my life is you.” Aziraphale kisses where Crowley’s neck meets his shoulder. “And I’ve not been given that gift easily. It seems the universe still expects us to fight to keep one another. This weekend as evidence.”

“Hope I’m still worth the effort.” Crowley turns to face his husband, straddling Aziraphale’s lap. The blond’s hands never leaving the slender body, now drifting down to Crowley‘s bare ass to support his balance.

“More than you can imagine.” Aziraphale’s eyes are dark, his body flushed with the heat of the water and his own arousal. His voice breathy and shaking with lust. “I would ask you the same, but you’ve already shown me time and time again your love for me. I’m sorry you even had to ask.”

Aziraphale pulls Crowley close, fingers digging into his tight backside, thrusting upwards, cocks sliding together in the frothy, wet heat. “I obviously need to do better at showing you.”

“I know you love me.” Crowley rides the wave of his husband’s body. “But I won’t argue with a demonstration.”

Aziraphale smirks, grabbing handfuls of damp auburn hair and crashing Crowley’s lips to his own. The blond’s grip is possessive, soft tongue forcing itself past Crowley’s lips, Aziraphale’s hips moving upwards in a slow steady rhythm.

Crowley moans, his own tongue dancing with his husband’s. Aziraphale tastes of chocolate, strawberries and a flavor all his own.

“I love you.” Crowley gasps against his Angel’s lips. “I love you so goddamn much.”

As Crowley speaks the words, he knows they aren’t sufficient. There are no words in the English language for how Aziraphale makes him feel. His Angel’s touch alone sets his soul, as well as body of flame. _I belong to him._

Crowley begins to lose himself in the sensation of Aziraphale’s penis sliding against his own, of the all-encompassing ache in his chest. “I love you so much it hurts, Aziraphale.”

“On the towel.” Aziraphale commands, releasing Crowley’s hair and pointing to the large cloth he had laid on the wooden platform.

Crowley pulls himself up and out of the water and seats himself on the towel.

“On your stomach, if you would.” Aziraphale pulls his body mid-thigh above the water as well. With the other towel he dries his hands and his penis before slicking them generously. He makes sure to keep all appendages out of the water, so as not to risk washing away the oil.

Crowley watches Aziraphale’s movements hungrily over his shoulder and does as he’s told. Aziraphale’s slick fingers are cold compared to the water, and Crowley can’t control how his body clinches around Aziraphale’s digits.

“Relax for me love.” Aziraphale strokes himself with one hand, working Crowley open with the other. His plush, heated body, laying across Crowley’s back. Aziraphale’s voice gruff near his husband’s ear. “I want to make you feel so very good. Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Crowley mewls as two thick fingers press against and slide across his sweet bundle of nerves. He grinds his dick into the soft fabric of the white towel, desperate for relief. “God, yes.” He hisses. “Make me feel good.”

“Do you want me to claim you, Anthony?” Aziraphale’s hot breath against his neck. Crowley can feel his Angel pleasuring himself against Crowley’s thigh. “Mark you my love? Show the world you are mine?”

Shit!” Three fingers now, and dammit the sweet bastard knows how to make his body sing. “Claim me, mark me. I-I’m yours. A-always yours.”

Suddenly Aziraphale’s Teeth are on Crowley’s neck, hard enough to bruise but not break the skin. Crowley screams his Angel’s name, as Aziraphale sucks a deep purple mark into the red-heads neck. Removing his fingers he presses his slick, fat cock into Crowley’s open, aching entrance.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Crowley keens as Aziraphale pushes in, nails leaving light, read trails along Crowley’s side. Again, not enough to break the skin, just enough to show his Angel was here.

“Tell me you love me, Angel.” Crowley begs, consumed with his pleasure, as Aziraphale begins to move. His round, thick, perfect dick finding it’s target again and again. “Tell me that I’m yours.”

Crowley’s always been a needy creature. Even after a decade and a half, he still needs that reassurance.

Aziraphale removes his mouth from Crowley’s throat with a pop, soothing the burn by lapping the area with his tongue. “I love you, Anthony.”

Crowley whines at the words whispered against his aching skin.

“You’re mine.” Aziraphale reaches under Crowley’s body, wrapping slick fingers around his throbbing cock. “And I’m yours.”

Oh-oh God, yes!” He loves Aziraphale so much, he feels as if his chest may crack open from the pressure of it. His Angel filling him more and more with each pump from behind. The only foreseeable relief, Aziraphale’s steady hand stroking him off. “I’m yours! Please, Angel, please!”

“What do you need my darling?” Aziraphale picks up speed, both men so close. “What can I give you my love?”

“Y-you!” Crowley feels the pressure build between his legs. “Only you. Forever. Never leave me. N-never leave me in this world alone.”

After all this time, Crowley needs to hear it. Needs to know, be reminded, that although Crowley will never feel worthy of his Angel, Aziraphale, by some miracle, still wants him.

“Forever.” Aziraphale’s lips against the nape of Crowley’s neck. “I’ll never let you go.”

And that’s all it takes. Those words moaned into Crowley’s skin, and he’s releasing himself onto the towel and his husband’s hand.

“Anthony! Oh, Jesus, yes!” Aziraphale’s mouth wet and hot, his screams muffled against freckled skin. His spend filling Crowley as both ride out their pleasure.

Breathing heavily, Aziraphale slides out and off Crowley to lay beside him.

Crowley rolls into his side to face his Angel, propping his head on his hand. “Think that was a lot more than hot tub foreplay.”

Aziraphale giggles, blue eyes sparkling. He slides his hand along Crowley’s arm. “Seems I did find a safe way to have hot tub sex.”

“Knew you could, clever man that you are.” Crowley drops a quick peck on Aziraphale’s lips, fingers tracing through platinum curls. “My gorgeous, strong, master of sex.”

Aziraphale sits up, bursting into a deep bellied laugh. “My goodness. That is quite the compliment.”

Crowley pulls himself to his feet on the platform and offers his hand to help Aziraphale stand as well. He realizes the pain in his ankle is almost completely gone, as Aziraphale uses Crowley’s leverage to rise.

“Let’s go get showers and fix ourselves up.” Crowley’s eyes scan once more over soft pale skin. “I’m s’posed to be takin’ a very sexy man dancing.”

* * *

**7:30PM, EST**

“Sorry were late.” Tracy fusses as she and Anathema exit Newt’s blue Wasabi. “Elias is feeling cranky this evening. Took a bit for me to get out of the house.”

Dagon smiles at the use of the name. Tracy is the only person to call Shadwell by his first name. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Tracy entering into a relationship with him, Dagon and everyone else would’ve kept on assuming his first name was Sergeant. “I like your hair.”

“Thank you!” Tracy smiles brightly, swishing her newly reddened hair from side to side. Although a good 20 years older than her core group of friends, the now Mrs. Shadwell is as beautiful and vibrant as anyone in their early to mid 40s.

“It’s not all her fault.” Anathema chimes in. “I got stuck at the library. Never could find good help since Aziraphale left.”

“Zira’s one of a kind.” Beez says fondly, taking Dagon’s hand. “Wasn’t for him and Crowley, don’t know where I’d be.”

“Yeah, anyway.” Warlock fidgets. “Can we get going? It’s good and dark and I wanna see a spirit.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Beez chuckles. “Y’all ran from that garage screaming like a bunch of babies last night.”

“That’s cause we thought something wanted to kill us.” Warlock defends, staring daggers at Beez. “If it’s just a normal ghost, those aren’t mean.”

“Yes they are.” Wensleydale’s voice cracks. Dagon isn’t entirely sure why he’s here, he’s terrified of everything. The teen fiddles with his glasses nervously. “In movies they’re always evil.”

“That’s cause they only make movies about the bad ones. Got to make money, ya know?” Adam claps Wensleydale on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “Dad says ghosts are the same people they were before they died. They just ain’t got a body anymore. So, if they were good people when they had a body, then they’re still good people without it.”

“That’s an amazing outlook.” Anathema grabs a satchel from her car before locking it up. She turns and walks to the road, the other eight people follow. “I have to say I one hundred percent agree.”

The walk from Knock & Son’s vacant parking lot to Monroe Cemetery/Church takes roughly twenty minutes. Monroe Hollow being a very secluded area, with a few homes clustered together but large expanses of land between those clusters.

They travel in silence until they see the small white church on the left side of the road and a gravel drive disappearing into the forest to the right.

“So, are you wanting to do this in front of the old church, or up in the cemetery?” Anathema asks, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and tapping the screen.

“We thought the cemetery.” Dagon watches as Anathema sighs in frustration. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah it’s fine.” Anathema place is the phone back into her jacket. “Agnes is just giving Newt a row to go. Didn’t know the terrible twos could last a decade.”

“She’s feisty.” Beez takes the lead, turning right and stepping onto the gravel path. “Wonder who she takes that after?”

“Her namesake.” Anathema shrugs off Beez’s insinuation. “I’ve never been that hard-headed.”

“Poor Newton.” Beez whispers so only Dagon can hear.

Dagon laughs just as quietly. She leans against her partner as the road grows more narrow and dark, only wide enough for a single vehicle to pass. Beez may be a head shorter than her, but there is a ferocity in them that Dagon loves. She feels safe when Beez is near.

Ten minutes later the path splits into a Y shape as headstones line her vision ahead. The path to the right leads down a slope, the graveyard to it’s the left, before disappearing deeper into the woods. To the right, the path travels up an incline into the heart of the cemetery, looping and dead ending around an old buckeye tree.

The lot make their way up the incline, Beez pointing to a marker near where they walk. “That one’s Teresa Garrulous’ grave.” Their voice a stage whisper, in an attempt to be dramatic. “They say she was a nun who practiced satanism. Would come here to do her rituals.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Pepper turns to look at them, doubt clouding her face. “There’s no Catholic churches here.”

“There are in Gallipolis and Portsmouth.” Anathema says as the group reaches the old tree. She takes a seat on the grass at the trunk and opens her satchel.

“But those are both almost an hour away.” Pepper sits herself across from Anathema, Adam sets beside her. “You’re telling me a nun drove 40 minutes to an hour to do her evil works.”

The remainder of the bunch take their seats, creating a circle around the Ouija board Anathema has taken from her bag.

“Well, if you’re a nun that doesn’t want to get caught worshiping the enemy, wouldn’t you travel far from home?” Dagon says seriously.

“Good point.” Pepper nods. “So that makes sense, but why bury her way out here?”

“Because the convent she was part of.” Beez pauses. “It was in Portsmouth by the way.” They say pointedly. “Found out about her discretions and refused to bury her in their cemetery.”

“They decided to place her here.” Anathema smiles mischievously. “Where she committed her atrocities.”

“What were those exactly?” Wensleydale looks around the circle, eyes wide.

The adults look to each other. Beez’s mouth opening and closing repeatedly, as if hoping the answer might fall out of their lips. The only sound they actually manage is a drawn out. “Ahhhhummmmm.”

“I actually think I read about her in one of Pops’ books.” Warlock scratches the side of his head. “Wasn’t she responsible for burning her convent down?”

“Oh!” Brian bounces where he sits. “You read that one to me!” He looks around the group, nodding excitedly. “One of the demon’s she summoned burned it down.”

Dagon’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God. I forgot about that story. But yeah that is what happened.”

Brian’s back straightens. He graces everyone with a smug, tight lipped grin.

“Can we just start this already?” Pepper makes a spinning gesture with her hand.

Anathema and Tracy nod. The younger woman scooting into the center of the circle placing her hands on the planchet. Tracy reaches her hands out to those on each side of herself. “Think of questions you wish to ask. Anathema will channel the spirits to answer.”

Dagon forces herself not to smile at the children’s faces around her. She can’t believe they’re buying it, each a mixture of anticipation and fear. That is except for Wensleydale, his is just fear.

Tracy makes a show of rolling her head from side to side and making some extremely ridiculous faces. Dagon fights the urge to laugh. Beez seems to be suffering from the same dilemma, lips pursed and squeezing Dagon‘s hand.

“Spirits from beyond, come to us tonight.” Tracy begins, eyes closed, head tilted back facing the sky. “And impart to us your wisdom.”

A good 15 seconds of silence and then Anathema speaks. “I feel a presence upon me.”

Tracy opens her eyes, snapping her head back down to face the group. “A spirit is here, you may ask your questions.” She releases Dagon’s and Wensleydale‘s hands scooting forward and placing hers on the planchet with Anathema’s.

Now it’s the four boys’ turn to look to one another in confused panic. Dagon tries even harder to suppress her smile.

Pepper rolls her eyes and begins. “What’s your name?”

The piece of plastic under Anathema and Tracy’s touch begins to move.

“ **H-A-N-N-A-H** ” The witch and medium spell in unison, before casting each other confused looks.

Dagon wasn’t consulted on the story they had devised but is excited to see where they’re going with this.

“Uhm, Hannah.” Anathema clears her throat. “What message do you have for us?”

“ **W-O-L-F** ”

“What?” Tracy looks to Anathema. The younger woman shakes her head, glancing toward the surrounding forest. “Where’s the wolf?”

“ **S-I-L-V-E-R** ”. A pause “ **I-N-B-L-U-E”**

“Are you doing this?” Tracy’s brow furrows tightly. “Because I’m not.”

“ **S-N-A-K-E** ”

Anathema gives Tracy a put off look. “Oh, come on. Where are you going with this?”

“ **D-O-N-T-T-O-U-C-H** ”

“Don’t touch what? The snake?” Tracy asks.

“Stop going off script.” Anathema hisses.

“ **Y-E-S.”**

“Why would we touch a snake?” Pepper sneers.

“ **W-O-L-F-B-I-T-E-S-S-N-A-K-E”**

“This is stupid.” Pepper stands. “You’re just making it talk gibberish.”

“ **B-L-O-O-D** ”

“She’s right.” Adam rises as the other children follow. The teens bored, begin to walk away.

“ **R-E-D-O-N-G-O-L-D** ”

“Thought at least you’d try to pretend it was the evil nun.” Warlock dust off his pants. “This act is so weird it’s not even fun.”

Dagon takes Beez’s hand as they start after the retreating children. Anathema and Tracy pack everything away before coming up the rear.

The entire walk back, Dagon and Beez quietly listen. The children ahead of them complain how disappointing the night has been and the women behind them argue, both refusing to take credit for messing up the evening’s fun.

* * *

**8:00PM, CST**

“Good call bringing those with you.” Crowley laughs, holding up the belt buckle Aziraphale has placed on the bed.

“It’s nice having a use for them outside of summer months.” Aziraphale smiles as he ties the tartan bow tie through the collar of his gold dress shirt. The tie a beautiful array of blue, beige, white and light gold. The last color matching his new shirt almost perfectly.

The shirt is a common country/western design, pearlescent buttons lined in gold and breast pockets with a looping rope design across the front of each in shimmering white. Aziraphale’s jeans are a formfitting dark denim, a brown belt through the loops. His boots, gold leather with white tips. He holds his hand out for the tartan belt buckle to complete the outfit. It matches the bowtie perfectly.

For three years Alexis and Mike’s daughter Sheila has been a barrel racer in the local rodeo circuit during the summer and of course the entire Crowley clan, as well as the rest of the family have been at every one of the events possible.

Aziraphale adores tartan and dressing to the nines. So as a gift the first year they were a couple Crowley had commissioned a tartan just for his Angel. Aziraphale now has a variety of clothing items with the design. The buckle had been purchased for the rodeo events. The bowtie had been his anniversary present bought weeks before and gifted an hour prior. The shirt, jeans and boots were newly acquired that morning.

“I brought yours also.” Aziraphale walks to the dresser and opens the top drawer pulling out a silver belt buckle with a black, red bellied snake design coiled in the center.

“Nice.” Crowley accepts the adornment, kissing his husband on the temple.

“Have you checked in on the children today?” Aziraphale asks, looking over Crowley’s slender figure. He is also in a new shirt, almost exactly like Aziraphale’s, only black, with gold rope designs, no tie, top two buttons open showing a hint of the mark his husband had left earlier that day. Crowley’s jeans are skintight, black denim and he wears his regular black snakeskin boots. “Because I did this morning, but not since.”

Crowley clips his belt buckle on. “I’ll call them now while you finish up. They were supposed to go to Monroe Hollow tonight for their séance. Kinda curious to see how that went anyway.”

“Tell them, I love them.” Aziraphale fluffs his hair, looking in the mirror. Wondering if he should let it grow out, and how hard would it be to control if he did.

“Will do, Angel.” Crowley grabs his cellphone from the bed and walks out of the room.

* * *

“Ya know.” Adam says as the Them, Dagon and Beez all file into the foyer, removing their coats. “That was all boring enough to maybe be real.”

“You’re joking?” Warlock kicks off his shoes.

“M’not.” Adam unties his own, placing them beside his brothers. “The more I thought about it, real life stuff is always boring. So, I’m starting to think that Hannah person might’ve been an actual ghost.”

“I say we key up a movie that’s actually exciting.” Pepper walks through the living room to the kitchen. “But first let’s get snacks.”

The boys all follow her, Beez begins shuffling through the movies and Dagon heads towards the bathroom.

“The theme from Skyrim begins to play from the kitchen, indicating Adam is getting a call.

“Sup, Dad.” Beez hears Adam speaking from the other room. “Yeah, was kinda dull, but I think it was a real ghost.”

“They’re all frozen.” Wensleydale whines. “Can’t even get the spoon out.”

They’ve rediscovered the sundaes from lunch. Beez chuckles, holding up the plastic case for **The Sixth Sense**. _Wonder if they’ve seen this?_

“You know any ghost stories about a ghost named Hannah?” Adam again.

“Ow! Don’t hit me with that!” Brian.

“Wicked.” Adam.

“I shall defend your honor.” Warlock.

“He’s attacking Pepper with a frozen bubble to defend Brian’s honor.” Adam says. A pause. “Well, I plan on it but I can’t do much defending while I’m on the phone. And she did hit him first with a strawberry sundae.”

_What the fuck?_ Beez tosses the disc aside and hurries into the kitchen. They are greeted to the sight of Warlock and Pepper wielding cups of frozen cream and sugar like floppy swords.

“Love you.” Adam turns to Beez. “Dad wants to talk to you.” Handing them the phone, he turns to Warlock. “Says him and Pops love you too.” Then he lifts his caramel sundae and strikes his brother in the arm, which leads to Brian striking Adam in the chest.

Wensleydale is ignoring the fight and trying to unfreeze his no longer hot fudge in the microwave.

Beez places the phone to their ear. “Hello.”

Dagon enters the kitchen in her pajamas. “What the hell?”

“Beez.” Crowley is laughing. “Normal Saturday night at the Crowley residence, I take it.”

“It seems.” They watch as Dagon rushes to the freezer in order to brandish her banana split.

“Wensleydale being the only adult?” He sounds happy.

“Yup.” To the children and Dagon. “Maybe y’all should take it outside to avoid any potential mess.”

Dagon salutes them, then points to the back door. “To the open arena, warriors.”

And with that five of the seven people in the kitchen bundle out the door.

“So Hannah talk to ya huh?” Obvious excitement in Crowley‘s voice.

“Wait.” Beez mouth drops open. “You know who that is?”

“Yup. Hannah Jones, I’m bettin’.” They’re both silent for a long moment. With a sigh Crowley continues. “The ghost attached to the Bentley.”

“Seriously?” That's just too fucking weird.

“Yes, seriously.” Crowley gushes. “What did she say?”

“Nonsense really.” Beez scratches their head trying to remember. “Something about a wolf biting a snake, blood and red on gold. Make any sense to you?”

Crowley makes a series of nonsensical noises, indicating he’s thinking. “I killed a snake today. But no wolves.”

“What’re your plans for tonight?” The previous subject gives Beez a bad vibe and they feel the need to change it. “Are you both having fun?”

“Going dancing.” Crowley replies. “Leaving soon in fact.” Pauses for a beat. “Having a good time overall, just a few hiccups. Gotta go, Aziraphale’s ready.”

“Tell Zira I say hi.” Beez steps onto the back porch with Wensleydale, the two of them watching the fray. The ice cream has started to melt, turning swords into catapults.

“Love you both. Be careful.” They mumble.

“Love you too big sib.” Crowley hangs up the phone.

* * *

**8:30PM, CST**

Fenrir Hilderbert watches the patrons from his office window overlooking the club. Technically it’s his mother’s office window, but she’s busy with a social event in Gatlinburg, leaving him in charge.

He’s glad for the opportunity to have free reign of the club, the night before ending in disappointment. The blond had been cute. Really cute. The man with him had just been drop your pants right now sexy.

Fenrir adores older men. Some say it’s daddy issues from never meeting his father, and perhaps that’s true.

He’d gone for the blond because he just seemed softer, and richer. Not that Fenrir needed money, his mother being one of the richest people in the state, but that was good for a long-term option. He hadn’t counted on the man actually being in love with his partner.

Maybe he should’ve tried for the redhead instead. He was sluttier looking. Not as beneficial for a long-term relationship, but more than likely fun to fuck.

The Silver Belle Saloon is already packed, but that’s normal for a Saturday night. People drive out of their way to get here. It’s location making it optimal for the small country towns nearby and far enough away from the major cities for those residents to use as a meeting place for secret rendezvous. Fenrir himself often uses it for such purposes.

He’s a predator, an alpha. Hell his mother named him after the child of a God, who just so happens to be a wolf. His father had been a strong male too, who took what he wanted. Fenrir’s mother always spoke of his father in a negative light, but Fenrir just can’t see him that way. He respects forceful bravado.

Determined not to spend the weekend alone, Fenrir adjusts the cuffs of his dark blue dress shirt. He’s scanning the bar and dance floor for possible targets when he sees them. He doesn’t suppress the low rumble laugh as it escapes him. His eyes trailing the prominent heads of blond and red hair, walking hand in hand to the bar.

“Tonight’s gonna be more fun than I thought.”


	4. Raise Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley just want to enjoy a nice evening out. Unfortunately they seem to be asshole magnets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Dorothy song. Hope you enjoy 💜💚❤️💛💙

**8:10PM, CST**

“Car’s here.” Aziraphale can see the headlights from where he stands at the bottom of the stairs. They decided to leave the Bentley at the cabin and take an Uber, allowing them both the opportunity to get drunk. The anniversary is both of their’s after all.

“Gotta go, Aziraphale’s ready.” Crowley says into his phone holding his hand up, index finger pointing skyward. “Love you to big sib.” He taps the end call button. “Beez and the boys say hi and they love you.”

“I hope they’re having fun.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand, allowing himself to be led out the cabin door. “Are the children behaving?”

“They were having an ice cream fight.” Crowley smirks, using his free hand to lock up behind him.

“Oh, is the house going to be a mess when we get back?” Aziraphale really doesn’t like the thought of cleaning the moment he gets home.

“Nope.” Crowley opens the back door of their ride for the evening, a small yellow Chevy Spark, allowing Aziraphale to slide in before him. “Beez is being very responsible and had them take the excitement outside.”

“Good.” Aziraphale smiles brightly up at his husband, then shuffles across the seat so Crowley can settle in beside him. “I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves.” He releases a sigh. “But I do miss them.”

“Me too.” Crowley squeezes his hand, leaning forward to address the driver. “Silver Belle Saloon.”

She nods and stares ahead silently. Crowley’s thankful she seems to be the quiet type. Allows him to keep his full attention on the man at his right.

“You’re beautiful, Aziraphale.” Crowley whispers in his ear. “You know you’ll get hit on tonight, can’t go around looking that good and not. But don’t worry, I’ll stay close.”

Aziraphale leans his temple against Crowley’s cheek. “Good, I like you close.”

Fifteen minutes later they walk through the glass doors of the bar. It’s a beautiful, two-story building with dark, rustic hardwood floors. Upon entrance they stand in a large area, long bar to the right, small tables with booths along the left wall, and six pool tables down the middle. Beyond, the club opens into an equally large dance floor with a stage and live band to the right. The left wall of the dance floor is open in the corner nearest to the seating for a staircase leading to the second floor. A sign on the wall beside it reads Employees Only. Across the dance floor on the opposite side of the building are the restrooms.

Aziraphale keeps a tight hold on Crowley’s hand as the duo make a beeline for the bar. “What d’ya want, Angel?”

“A red if they have a decent vintage, if not a Margarita.”

Orders placed and received, the couple settled into a booth, Crowley with his Guinness, Aziraphale a Margarita.

_Margarita works much better than a red for seduction._ Aziraphale realizes, enjoying the look on Crowley’s face, the red heads full attention on him. Aziraphale maintains eye contact as his soft tongue laps the edge of glass.

“So.” Crowley clears his throat. Shifting in his seat, he places a long arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You wanna dance after we finish these, or get good and sloshed first?”

“I say we drink these and then have a dance.” Aziraphale points to the pool tables. “I assumed you’d wish to play a few rounds.”

“You don’t like pool.” Crowley shakes his head, but Aziraphale can see in his husband’s expression that he’s correct.

“I don’t need to play. There are plenty in here that I’m certain would take you up on a game.” Aziraphale licks his glass primly before taking a sip.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you.” Crowley kisses the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth.

“I enjoy watching you, my dear.” The blond turns his head to give Crowley a proper kiss. “One of my favorite pass times is looking at your rear as you’re bent forward.”

Crowley’s fingers twist the curls on the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “I’ll let you bend me forward.”

“Already been done darling.” Aziraphale slides his hand up Crowley’s thigh until it rests over his cock. “But I have no objections about doing it again soon.”

“Tease.” Crowley growls with an intake of breath.

Aziraphale presses his thumb onto the hardening member, sliding the digit along the shaft through Crowley’s jeans. “I’m not teasing my love, as I plan on fucking you senseless later.” His lips press closely to Crowley’s ear. “I’d love nothing more than to hear you screaming my name as you writhe beneath me.”

Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s neck just above his collar and the visible bruise he’d left earlier.

“I really want to romance you tonight.” Crowley moans. “But you’re making it hard for me to do anything right now.”

“Yes, I can feel how hard I’m making it.” Aziraphale giggles, removing his hand and sitting up properly. “Finish your drink, I’ll try my best to behave until we are back at the cabin.”

And he does behave, to the best of his ability, which is difficult around someone like Crowley. The man is sex on legs, he doesn’t even need to try. It oozes from his skin, Aziraphale still weak to his charms.

It’s not just a physical appeal of Crowley’s lean sexy body, but that body and soul combined. Crowley doesn’t seem to notice or care that he’s physically attractive. Instead, always treating Aziraphale as if he is the more intriguing of the two.

And there’s such a gentleness to the way Crowley treats the world around him. The fact that he’s strong but doesn’t feel the need to prove it. He makes Aziraphale feel safe, without ever becoming physically aggressive towards anyone. There have been many occasions Aziraphale is certain Crowley has forced himself to stay calm so that his Angel might never be forced to see him in that light. Ever the protector and provider.

First round of drinks down, Crowley slides from the booth and offers Aziraphale his hand. The blond accepts, allowing himself to be led to the edge of the dance floor.

“Wait here.” Crowley kisses his temple. “Be right back.”

Aziraphale nods, watching with an amused smile as Crowley hurries to the stage. Approaching one of the band’s crew, Crowley engages her in a short conversation, before slipping something into her hand. Aziraphale observes the woman pocketing what she has been handed before Crowley makes his way back to Aziraphale’s side.

“What are you up to?” Aziraphale teases playfully when Crowley takes his hand.

“You’ll see.” Crowley raises Aziraphale’s hand to his lips.

The moment the band finishes their current song, the young woman rushes to the lead singer and guitarist. After a brief conversation amongst the band members, and disbursement of what Crowley had slipped into her hand, the opening chords of an all too familiar Eric Church song begin to play.

“Oh, darling.” Aziraphale stares at his husband, absolutely besotted. “It’s your wedding vows.”

_I’m a long-gone Waylon song on vinyl. I’m a back-row sinner at a tent revival._

Crowley smiles beautifully. “May I have this dance?”

_But you believe in me like you believe your Bible. And love me like Jesus does._

“Convinced them to change a few words around from the original too, I see.” Aziraphale wraps his arms around a slender neck, tangling his fingers in long red locks.

_You carry me when my sins make me heavy. And love me like Jesus does._

“It’s amazing what ya can make happen with a couple dollars.” Crowley arms find their way around his husband’s waist, golden eyes scanning Aziraphale’s face. He’s left his glasses behind tonight, and the fullness of his adoration shines.

_All the crazy in my dreams, both my broken wings. Every single piece of everything I am._

“Only a couple?” Aziraphale smiles at the perfect man before him, basking in the glow of his husband’s stare.

_Yeah, ya know the man I ain’t, you forgive me when I can’t. The devil, man, no he don’t stand a chance._

Crowley traces his fingers through platinum curls, and gently over an old scar. “All the money in the world is worthless compared to what you mean to me.”

_But I thank God each night and twice on Sunday, that you love me like Jesus does._

Aziraphale cups Crowley’s face, overtaken by the love he still overwhelmingly feels for the man holding him. “I love you so much, Anthony.”

Crowley’s breath hitches at the avalanche of shared emotions between them in the moment. “I love you too, Angel.”

It’s uncertain which leans in first, but they sway gently, embracing tightly and kissing deeply.

T _he devil, man, no he don’t stand a chance. You love me like Jesus does._

_I’m a long-gone Waylon song on vinyl._

* * *

Even under the dark lights, it’s obvious to everyone watching that the slender red-head and plush blond are deeply and irrevocably in love.

Well, almost everyone. The same can’t be said for the figure watching from the second-floor office window, flanked by a young slender woman to his right and a soft, sweet face young man to his left.

Helen and Luke have been Fenrir‘s closest friends since high school. Neither of them well off, but that doesn’t matter to Fenrir, in fact he considers it a benefit. His superior wealth ensuring he and he alone remains the leader of their little pack.

“A lot of flirting between the two of them.” Helen sweeps her shoulder length, brown hair behind her ear, her steel blue eyes are cold and analytical. “Can’t have been married for too long, they’re still too into each other.”

“Dunno.” Luke put his hands in his pockets.

Fenrir has noticed on more than one occasion how Luke looks at him. With his blue/green eyes prominently displayed against tan skin and sandy blond hair, Fenrir would have propositioned him if he wasn’t such a close friend, and if Luke had come from money, he might have attempted to claim him.

“What don’t you know?” Fenrir pries his eyes away from the scene below to look at his friend.

“Some people can be together for years and stay deeply in love.” Luke sighs, staring almost dreamily at the middle-age pair below. “Best friends and lovers, those relationships are always the best.”

“Yes, and only exist in fairytales and cheesy romances.” Helen crosses her arms over her chest.

“Exactly.” Fenrir nods, looking down at the men holding one another close. Something animalistic stirs in Fenrir’s loins, as he watches the couple share kisses, smiles and gentle touches. “Red’s obviously in for the money, and curly cue a good fucking when he needs it.”

“So, what do you need us to do?” Helen tilts her head, rolling her eyes at the show on the dance floor.

“Get close, listen, and figure out a way to separate them.”

* * *

**9:30PM, CST**

“So, are we playing for money?” The slender young woman asks. She had introduced herself as Helen and had been sitting in the booth beside Aziraphale and Crowley’s with her friend Luke. After overhearing them, once again discussing Crowley’s want to play pool and his lack of an opponent, Helen was quick to offer a game.

“Well not if you’re asking.” Crowley laughs, glancing to Aziraphale for input on how to proceed. “Makes me pretty damn sure you’re capable of taking me for all I’ve got.”

“Go on Anthony.” Aziraphale nods his approval, waving his hand in a gesture to proceed with the bet. “You know we can afford to let her win.”

“Angel!” Crowley feigns hurt. “It’s one thing for me to doubt me. You’re supposed to be my cheerleader.”

“Sorry dear.” Aziraphale smirks. “Kick her butt darling.”

“Much better.” Crowley kisses his husband before sliding from the booth and following Helen the several feet to the pool cues. “Fifty to the winner?”

“Sure.” Helen chooses a cue from the rack on the wall. “Your anniversary, huh? How long?”

“Fifteen years.” Crowley’s chest puffs out proudly as he chooses a cue of his own. “Fifteen amazing years.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Luke! You were right, 15 years!” She screams across the crowded building. Her companion has moved from his and Helen’s booth and now sits across from Aziraphale. Due to the bars ever-growing crowd, Crowley is lucky to catch Luke giving Helen a thumbs up and smug smile before returning his attention to Crowley’s now curious Angel. His visual of both men soon blocked by a cluster of human bodies.

“Now I’m paying for drinks tonight.” She grumbles, removing the ball rack, from its spot on the side of the table.

“You were making bets on mine and my husband’s relationship?” Crowley asks, wishing he still had a visual of Aziraphale with his new friend.

“Well I said you had to be within the first three years of marriage.” She leans over the table to line up her shot. “Most couples start to get tired of their partner after that.” With a thrust of her cue the balls scatter. “But you both are still tooth rottingly sweet.”

“That’s a horrible outlook on love.” Crowley’s curiosity kicks in. “You and Luke aren’t an item?”

“Nah.” She winces as she misses her shot and steps aside for Crowley to take his turn. “Luke’s one of my two best friends. Has been since school. The other owns this bar.” She points to the office at the top of the stairs. “He’s busy working. Might come down later. Think Luke’s always had a thing for Fen.”

“Fen doesn’t return his affections?” Crowley asks to be polite, but also out of a sixteen years of conditioning to care about others, caused by living with a human Angel.

“Hell no.” She’s chuckles shaking her head. Her voice drops so only Crowley can hear as he lines up his shot. “Fen will be friends with people like us, but he’s too much of a rich snob to ever settle with someone like Luke.”

“Probably best for Luke not to be with him then.” Crowley sinks his ball and moves to line up his next target. “Pretentious assholes can be hard to live with.” He flinches, realizing he may have misspoken. “Not to insult your friend.”

“It’s all right.” She gestures to Luke. “He, however, does anything Fen asks.” Helen tilts her head, considering something briefly before voicing it. “As for your earlier statement, I think my outlook on love is very realistic. There’s no such thing as soulmates or true love. Everything in life is fueled by money, comfort, convenience, lust or the combination of the four.”

_Damn, what’s wrong with people anymore?_ Crowley stands to his full height and forces a friendly laugh. “What are you trying to say about my marriage then?”

“C’mon man.” She steps closer, once again whispering. “It’s obvious you’re loaded and the money is his.” She nods her head in the direction Aziraphale would be setting if they could see him. “Or else you wouldn’t need his permission to bet it.”

“I didn’t ask his permission.” Crowley’s says offended, anger seeping in. He wants to say so much more, but a public outburst might upset Aziraphale if he found out.

“Yeah, not in those words, but it was obvious that’s what you were doing.” She steps back looking him over. “And you think he’s with you because of your personality and intellect, or because of how you look in those jeans?”

“I’m done playing.” Crowley tosses his pool cue aside. Swerving his way through the crowd to his husband while Helen calls from behind him.

Sometimes Crowley hates people, especially rich people. Aziraphale is the first and only person with money he’s ever met that isn’t a self-centered, self-indulgent asshole. Sure, Helen admittedly isn’t rich, but she leeches off someone who is, making her no different than the rest of the superior minded pricks. Crowley’s not like them and he’s damn certain his Angel isn’t.

But he’s heard the whispers for years around Oak Hill as well, once the towns people found they have money. _Never even knew Anthony Crowley liked men before the Brit arrived_. Well of course they fucking didn’t. The town is full of homophobic assholes, and Aziraphale was the first person he’d ever met worth putting himself out in harm’s way to have. Not that Crowley was ever ashamed of who he is, quite the opposite, but it was never any of their damn business before. After his parents and an unfortunate occurrence in junior high, he chose to keep his business out of everyone’s mouth.

Finally reaching the booth Crowley’s heart drops to see his angel is gone. “Where’s Aziraphale?”

“He excused himself to go to the restroom.” Luke looks up at the red-head calmly. “Something wrong?”

Without responding, Crowley turns, moving quickly across the club to the restrooms. Rage and fear coursing through his body. Rage that there are people in this world so blind to Aziraphale’s beauty and brilliance that they’d assume Crowley only wants him for his money. That they’d reduce Crowley’s affections for Aziraphale to those of some gold-digging tart.

Fear caused by memories of sixteen years ago, on another night of dancing and how that night had ended when Aziraphale had gone off to the restroom alone.

Crowley kicks himself internally, shoving his way through the crowd, his destination in sight. He’d told Aziraphale he’d stay by his side tonight and he hadn’t. Just like the night in his memory, when he’d swore to never let anyone hurt his Angel again and he’d failed.

Crowley pushes through the inward swinging door to a fancy lavatory, the kind commonly found in nicer establishments. Currently standing in a sitting area with a small sofa on the left, cream carpeting and a well-lit, wall length mirror with sinks on the right. Ahead, an open archway and beyond, linoleum flooring, a line of stalls to the left and urinals to the right.

“Angel?” Crowley stands in the archway waiting for an answer. Silence.

“Aziraphale?” He steps onto the linoleum, bending at the waist, looking for feet under the stall walls. He pays little mind to the door opening from where he’d just entered. “Dove?”

“Such sweet pet names.” Comes a voice from behind him. “Thanks for the view.”

Crowley snaps to stand up fully, spinning to see the speaker. He’s met with a hungry smile and roving eyes.

“Hildedick wasn’t it?” Crowley sneers to hide his panic. This won’t go well. The younger man is taller and obviously stronger.

“Oh, a pet name for me now too.” Hildebert steps towards him. “I’ll let you call me Fenrir, if you tell me how much that piece of ass costs.”

“Fuck you.” Crowley spats, moving towards the door. “Where’s Aziraphale?”

“Don’t worry.” Hilderbert grabs Crowley’s wrist as he tries to push past the younger man. “My friends will keep him well occupied until we’re done.” The asshole licks his lips, pulling Crowley closer. “Swear I won’t tell.”

“Don’t make me beat your ass.” Crowley hisses. He hopes Hilderbert can’t see through his false bravado, hopes the snake eyes and brave words are enough to jar the bastard. “I won’t ask again, where’s my husband?”

“You don’t have to play coy with me.” Fenrir looks amused as he pushes Crowley against the wall. His blue eyes almost appear violet under the fluorescent lights, the creep thrusting his hips against the struggling red-head’s pelvis. “I know you want this.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Crowley tries to calm his breathing. He knows he’s about to be overpowered, but he also knows being a good fighter is about much more than brute strength.

Hilderbert has his wrists locked, and himself placed between Crowley’s legs in such a way that Crowley is robbed of the ability to use them as well. There’s only one option left and it’s gonna hurt.

Hilderbert moves in, for what is most likely a forced kiss, and Crowley throws his own head forward with enough force he can hear the asshole’s nose crack as Crowley’s forehead makes contact.

The shock and pain from the blow has Crowley‘s opponent stumbling backward, allowing Crowley to pull his wrist free of Hilderbert’s hold and shove the younger, stronger man against the sinks. With his path to freedom no longer blocked, Crowley rushes out of the restroom and onto the bustling dance floor.

“Fuck!” Crowley curses loudly, still dizzy from the impact to his skull. He forces himself to focus. _My Angel. They’ve done something with my Angel._

Terrified and a little nauseous, he looks around frantically for any sign of a golden shirt and platinum hair. Nothing.

Crowley pushes his way to the other end of the dance floor. Looking back he sees Hildedick emerge from the restroom. Feet frozen where he stands, Crowley doesn’t want to leave if they have Aziraphale somewhere here, but he doesn’t want to continue standing doing nothing if they’ve taken his husband elsewhere. And if they have done the latter, how will Crowley possibly find him?

Luckily in that moment Crowley’s eyes are drawn to an office window on the second floor, and the sight of his bright Angel shining against the dark walls of the room behind him.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley exhales the name in relief. He’s found him and from here, he looks unharmed.

Hilderbert is nearly across the dance floor as Crowley bolts up the stairs to the second floor.

* * *

**Thirty minutes earlier**

Aziraphale’s gaze lingers on Crowley as he makes his way across the bar. Luke vacates the booth he is sitting in, sliding into the seat across from Aziraphale.

“I mean no offense by what I’m about to say.” The slender man leans his elbows onto the table. “But your husband has to be the sexiest older man I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I wouldn’t refer to him as an older man, he’s only 45.” Aziraphale chuckles. “However, I must agree that I’ve not seen a sexier human on God’s green earth.”

“Luke! You were right, 15 years!” Helen yells from the other side of the building, barely audible above the crowd. The establishment has become very busy in the last half hour and a wall of bodies is slowly making it more difficult to see where she and Crowley stand.

Luke gives her a thumbs up and a smile before Helen and Crowley are blocked completely from view. “She’s paying for tonight’s drinks.”

“You bet on how long we’ve been married?” Aziraphale lifts his drink to his lips. Not a Margarita this time, but nearly as sweet. A Fallen Angel they’d called it, and he had just had to try it.

“Yeah. Helen says loves not real.” Luke leans back in his seat. “Said you guys had to be together less than three years, because after that the lust wears off.” He lifts his arms, interlocking his fingers behind his head. “I disagreed. I said not only is love real, but it’s the fuel that keeps lust alive, and I was sure you had that.” He moves his right hand over his head, pointing at Aziraphale. “The way you can’t keep your hands off him is understandable. He’s gorgeous.”

“Would you believe.” Aziraphale smiles sweetly. “As gorgeous as Anthony is, he seems to think I am the superior beauty of the two of us.” He glances in the direction he knows Crowley should be, unable to spot him through all the bodies. “He continues to perform grand gestures and loving services, as if he still believes he must win my affections anew each day.”

“Do you do the same for him?” Luke places his elbows back onto the table, this time resting his chin on his hand.

“Not as often as I should.” Aziraphale sighs. A spike of anxiety hits and he absentmindedly rings his hands in his lap. “In fact, I’ve not done or purchased anything for him on this trip.” He purses his lips, brow draw down. “Granted, we agreed the trip was enough, and not to buy any gifts this anniversary.”

“Didn’t I see him pay the band to play a song earlier?” Luke’s left eyebrow raising, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“Yes.” Aziraphale nods, he bites his lip. Lifting his hands to his collar, fingers touching the new bow tie there. “And he bought me this as well.”

Luke looks in the directions of where the pool table should be. “Well, he seems to like music. I might be able to help you surprise Anthony with something awesome.”

“Really?!” Aziraphale lights up at the notion that he might succeed in a grand gesture for Crowley. “And what might that be, dear boy?”

“What or who’s his favorite band or musician?” Luke’s smile is gentle, Aziraphale likes his kind eyes.

“Well, he sings a lot of different songs, it’s hard to narrow it down.” Aziraphale worries at his tie, disappointed in himself again. A good husband should be able to answer questions like this quickly.

“I’ll tell you what.” Luke takes his cell phone from his pocket. “My friend owns this bar and has a lot of connections with a lot of musicians, can get you tickets and all access passes to anyone.”

“His wedding vows to me are the Eric Church song to which we were earlier dancing.” Aziraphale says quickly, remembering how romantic Crowley had been to suggest the song be played. “That would be a rather romantic choice, don’t you agree?”

“I do.” Luke smacks the table gently. “Let me call Fen.” Dialing on his phone, the young man slides out of the booth.

Aziraphale waits patiently, thrilling at the idea of him being the one to make the romantic gesture. Crowley has always wanted to attend a concert and has never had the opportunity. In the past it was that he didn’t have the money, and now it’s that he never has the time. The sweet, lovely man always too busy taking care of everyone else.

It’s barely three minutes later and Luke is standing by the booth, a slender gentleman at his side. “Fen is busy at the moment but will be free shortly. Rusty here is gonna escort you to his office until he’s ready.”

Aziraphale stands. “I should let Anthony know where I’m going.”

“And ruin the surprise?” Luke stares at him incredulously. “No, no. I’ll wait here and let your Anthony know you’re planning a surprise and to wait here. Once I’ve informed him I’ll head up to Fen’s office too.”

Aziraphale has a brief moment of indecision. The debate whether it might be safer to make Crowley aware of where he is off to. But that would destroy any chance of sweeping his husband off his feet. He decides there’s very little risk and it’s better to actually romance his husband for once. Besides, Luke seems like such a kind young man.

Aziraphale smiles pleasantly and nods to Rusty. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Crowley bursts through the office door, causing Aziraphale to startle. His Angel stands beside a beautiful cedar desk, admiring a five-inch tall wolf sculpture in his hands. Luke hovering a few feet from him, causing Crowley’s skin to prickle.

“We need to go, Aziraphale.” Crowley hurries across the room taking his husband in his arms. “The Hilderbert brat from last night is the owner. He must have seen us come in, this is some sort of set up.”

“What?” Aziraphale gasps.

“That asshole.” He nods to Luke. “Told me you’d gone to the restroom. When I went to find you, Hildebastard cornered me. Made his intentions sickeningly clear. I barely got away.”

“Don’t let him lie. He was begging for it.” Hilderbert pants from where he stands blocking the office door, face covered in drying blood. “All bent over, offering that ass.”

Aziraphale’s free hand grips Crowley’s waist. His gaze scanning over his husband’s disheveled hair and flush face. “Did he touch you?”

“Pinned me against the wall.” A new wave of nausea courses through Crowley when he thinks of the creep grinding against him. “Was pushing his body into mine.”

Something Crowley’s never seen before flashes in Aziraphale’s eyes, his lips purse in a tight grimace, nostrils flaring, as his grip on Crowley tightens. Aziraphale turns to face Hilderbert who has started moving closer. “You sick bastard.”

“Oh, come on.” Hilderbert laughs. “He loved it. Could tell he wanted more.”

Before Crowley can fully register what’s happening, Aziraphale releases his waist, swiftly closing the distance between himself and Hilderbert. Luke moves much faster and takes hold of the wrist in which Aziraphale holds the wolf statue. The blond immediately spins, and with his freehand, roundhouse punches the smaller, weaker man, making contact with Luke’s temple and dropping him to the floor.

“That won’t work on me, sunshine.“ Crowley flinches at Hilderbert’s use of the pet name. “I’m a lot stronger than-“

Hilderbert’s words are cut short as the wolf statue makes contact with the arrogant asshole’s already bloodied nose.

“You’re done, you’re fucking done!” Hilderbert sputters, as a renewed stream of blood trickles from his nose to his mouth. “I’ll have you in prison for assault, and your Anthony in my bed.”

Crowley reaches out, about to tell his husband they need to go while they have the chance, but before he can Aziraphale releases the most animalistic sound he’s ever heard. A mixture of pain and anger, that causes Crowley to step back in shock as his sweet, soft, gentle Angel tosses the statue aside and tackles Hilderbert to the floor.

Aziraphale now straddles the asshole’s prone body, fist moving in a flurry, left after right, repeatedly making contact with Hilderbert’s already bloodied face. Aziraphale is sobbing, mumbling words Crowley can’t understand.

Realizing the bar owner has stopped moving, Crowley breaks himself from his stunned state. Grabbing Aziraphale under the arms, he tries pulling him away from the unconscious man, only to have his husband shove him away to continue his attack.

“We need to go, Angel.” Crowley wraps himself around Aziraphale, trapping the blond’s arms and cooing softly in his ear. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, Dove. Please, we need to go.” He begs.

At the sound of Crowley’s voice, Aziraphale stops struggling, allowing himself to be lifted away and out of the office. He continues to sob, clinging to Crowley, his golden shirt now ruined, covered in Hilderbert’s blood. Their vacation obviously cut short. Crowley can’t lose Aziraphale, he needs to protect him from what’s coming. There’s no other choice but to leave for home tonight.


	5. Next To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a bit of a twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those unfamiliar with American store chains Piggly Wiggly is a grocery store. Thanks for reading ❤️❤️

"Stay with me Aziraphale." Crowley presses his Angel against himself and leads him across the office. To the outside onlooker it will appear Crowley is merely helping his inebriated partner out of the establishment. In reality, it's so that the blood stains on Aziraphale's shirt stay hidden from prying eyes.

"What have I done?" Aziraphale sobs onto Crowley's shoulder. Hilderbert moans, he and Luke beginning to stir.

"You came to my rescue." Crowley directs him out of the office and down the stairs. "It's gonna be alright, Dove. I'll make sure you're alright."

On the ground floor, Crowley leads them into a gap he'd noticed between the underside of the stairs and the wall. Hidden, even if only for a few minutes, Crowley takes this opportunity assess Aziraphale's current state.

"Hey." Crowley runs his thumb over a soft cheek, hunching down to look into Aziraphale's downcast eyes. "I'm gonna get you out of here, get you home. I just need you to focus and stay with me."

“I hurt someone, Anthony." Aziraphale looks up, his blue eyes bright and afraid. "You don't think me a monster?"

"No, Angel." Crowley hugs him, pulling Aziraphale close and kissing the top of his head. "I think you're my hero." He turns, pulling away just enough that the pair can walk comfortably. "Stay close, keep the stains hidden against me. There's a fire exit just past the restrooms that I'm pretty sure opens into the back alley."

To Crowley's relief, no one seems to pay them any mind, as they shuffle along the back wall of the club. Once outside Crowley, releases his husband, takes his phone from his pocket and taps the Uber app for a ride. He schedules a driver to meet them a block to the north.

"We have eight minutes until a car meets us at the little craft store up the way." He returns the phone to his pocket and takes Aziraphale's hand, as an ambulance and four police cruisers, lights flashing, pull in front of the bar.

“Time to go." Crowley tugs on his Angel's hand. His heart jumping into his throat, when Aziraphale pulls his hand away, shaking his head.

"Running will make this worse, Anthony." The blond's voice is steady, but Crowley can see he's terrified. Aziraphale's eyes shimmer in the low lights, his Adam's apple bobs as he struggles to swallow. "I should go speak to the police, get this all sorted out."

"It won't get sorted out, Aziraphale." Crowley grabs his arms, pleading for him to listen. "You'll end up arrested. Locked up here in Tennessee, states away from me and the boys."

"If I explain to them it was self-defense." Aziraphale seems to search Crowley's face, begging to be understood. "Then I'm certain the right people will fix this."

"There aren't any right people." Crowley shakes his head, teeth clenched in panic. "This isn't home, those cops aren't Andrew." _Don't do this, dammit, I can't lose you_. "You just beat the shit out of the richest, probably most powerful man in town. Don't you remember Miami, Gabriel?"

Aziraphale’s eyes flash. "How dare you?" He backs away further. "This is different, not all places are corrupted by money."

"I'm sorry I mentioned him, shouldn’t have done that. You know as well as I do most people and places are corrupted by money, so if you seriously think walking out there and handing yourself over will make this all better, I'm telling you that won't happen." Crowley feels like his entire world is caving around him. "Andrew is the exception in the world we live in today, not the rule." He can't stop his tears or the words that come out next, as he watches his Angel, the love of his life, march to his own destruction. "You're so clever! How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?!"

"Go Anthony." Aziraphale says tenderly, a sad smile on his gorgeous face, before walking around the front of the building. "I forgive you."

* * *

**Sunday, October 29, 12:32AM, EST**

Brian wakes to the sound of crying. Raising onto his elbows, he scans the darkness until his eyes adjust. He notices Warlock sitting up, his knees pulled to his chest.

"You okay?" Brian whispers, trying not to wake anyone else.

"No." Warlock sniffles. "Nightmare."

"Wanna go on the porch and talk about it?"

Warlock nods, and both boys shimmy out of their sleeping bags. Stepping over Adam and then Wensleydale, Brian offers Warlock a hand, helping him to his feet. Not letting go, Brian leads him as silently as possible onto the long, wooden deck.

"Swing with me." Brian settles onto the old, cushioned porch swing, pulling Warlock into the seat beside him. "What was your dream about?"

"Dad and Pops." Warlock wipes his eyes. "Dreamt somebody hurt 'em and they never got to come home."

"That's rough." Brian's never been good with words. Wishes he was, just not a gift he's been blessed with. So instead he puts his arm around Warlock's upper body directing his head to lay against Brian's shoulder. "What d'ya think made you dream such a crazy thing?"

"Was thinking before I fell asleep, about how Dad told Adam that ghost we talked to was real." Warlock tilts his head to look up at Brian, who nods. "Well people always comment on Dad's snake looking eyes and that tattoo. And that ghost mentioned a wolf hurting a snake. Maybe it was a warning that somethin's gonna happen to Dad."

"I'm sure it's just a weird coincidence." Brian tries to sooth Adam's fears, while glancing behind them at the garage.

"If that was the only thing, yeah." Warlock sets up, taking his cell phone from his hoodie pocket. "But earlier Dad posted a pic on social media of Pops and tagged him at a place called Silver Belle Saloon. And look."

Brian leans close to the screen. "I don't see anything."

"Pops' shirt." Warlock sounds angry. Or maybe panicked? Brian's not sure. "It's a shiny gold color." He ticks the next few items off on his fingers. "Snake, gold and silver."

"But there's still no wolf, blue, red or blood." Brian moves his arm from behind Warlock so he can swipe through Crowley's social media photos.

"Pops has blue eyes. What if the wolf is a bad guy they meet and the red and blood are the same thing. That means the blood is on Pops' shirt. Red on gold." Warlock is definitely panicked, Brian decides as Warlock grabs his wrist. Hard.

Brian locks the phone screen, placing it back in Warlock's free hand. "Already said earlier, pretty sure your Dad's a super-hero. He'll save your Pops and the day."

"But the wolf bites the snake, remember." Warlock laces his fingers with Brian's. "What if it's Dad's blood on Pops' shirt. Who's gonna save him if he's the one that gets hurt?"

"What if it's the bad guys blood on your Pops' shirt?" Brian may be bad at words, but he's good at super-hero stuff. "Hear me out. Pepper Potts isn't typically a fighter, right? She's the brain that runs the business and the one that takes care of and loves people generally. Just like your Pops."

"Yeah." Warlock's brow crinkles in confusion. "What's that gotta do with all this?"

"When push came to shove and the world needed another hero, who'd she become?" Brian smiles supportively. He hopes this is helping.

"Rescue." Warlock says hopefully. "She became Rescue."

"Yep." Brian squeezes Warlock's hand. "Just like Jane Foster became Thunderstrike after knowing Thor, Hope Van Dyne became the Wasp after meeting Scott and Steve Rogers became Captain America after falling in love with Peggy Carter. Sometimes loving a hero and having their support and love back can help you realize you're a hero too."

"I can't see Pops fighting anyone." Warlock laughs. "Let alone a villain."

"I've seen how much your Pops loves your Dad.” Brian kisses Warlock’s cheek, causing the blue eyed boy to blush. “Don't under-estimate him.”

* * *

**October 29, 8:30AM, CST**

Aziraphale wakes to the noise of metal slamming against metal. The twinge of a hangover throbs through his head. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, to do so would prove the previous night wasn’t some nightmare. Prove that he is a complete and total failure, who hadn’t listened to his husband’s pleas to leave town.

He instead had walked up to the police, in a small city in which he beat senseless one of it’s richest residents and had actually expected any of them to listen to him.

Crowley of course didn’t walk away. No, he had followed Aziraphale to his demise. Aziraphale feels sick at the memory of Crowley being cuffed and forced into the back of a separate cruiser.

In interrogation Aziraphale had begged for them to listen to reason. He had explained everything that happened to them over the course of the previous evening, but they were strangers here, so his words meant nothing.

The only relief being, Hilderbert’s injuries are not as severe as Aziraphale had at first feared. The prick had only suffered a broken nose, a few missing teeth, and a concussion. Which means, worst case scenario, Aziraphale is looking at assault not murder

Aziraphale hasn’t seen either of them since the three were placed in separate vehicles. He’s happy to never see Hilderbert again, but no one will tell him what has happened to Crowley. He had pleaded with every officer he saw to tell him whether Crowley was in a cell, or if they taken a statement and released him. Told anyone who would listen of his husband’s innocence in the whole, chaotic matter.

Only one polite officer had simply said “I’m sorry sir, I’m not permitted to give you that information.” But the rest either ignored him or told him to “shut up.”

“You’re free to go, Mr. Crowley.” He is pulled from his thoughts by the voice outside his cell, followed by the sound of a Folger’s Adams key turning in a lock.

Aziraphale opens his eyes, and sits up too quickly, cursing the way it causes his head to throb even more. Before him stands a rather unpleasant looking, overweight male officer. Behind the officer is a plump, black and gray pepper-haired woman perhaps 15 years Aziraphale’s elder. She wears a white blouse, gray pinstripe skirt and matching blazer. Her clothing and demeanor scream an elegance that Aziraphale hasn’t seen since his childhood. She’s clearly old money.

“Charges have been dropped.” The officer grumbles half-heartedly, almost as if the words hurt to speak.

“Come with me, if you would please.” The woman offers Aziraphale her hand. “Let me take you to your husband.”

“Where is he?” Aziraphale stands abruptly, no longer concerned with the throbbing pain behind his eyes. “Is he alright?”

The officer flinches at the quick movement, hand jumping to his side arm. The woman’s face looks pained as her eyes lock onto the stains scattered across Aziraphale’s shirt. She places a hand on the officer’s arm. “No need for that Harris. You may leave.”

“Yes ma’am, Miss Hilderbert.” Harris nods, glaring at Aziraphale one last time, then disappearing down the corridor.

“Hilderbert?” There’s a tremor in Aziraphale’s voice as he fights the urge to cry. Closing his eyes again he tries to steady his nerves. “Where is Anthony?”

“Don’t worry he’s safe. I’m not like my son.” She says gently and lays a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He flinches and open his eyes, amazed at how quickly she has drifted into the cell. “Please, call me Charity. Your husband is outside in my car waiting.”

“I’m not leaving this police station without seeing or talking to him first.” Aziraphale will be damned before he lets these people play any more mind games.

“He’s in my car. I swear.” She opens her purse and removes Aziraphale’s cell phone, which had been taken from him the night before. “Call him.”

Aziraphale’s gaze doesn’t leave Charity’s face, his fingers instinctively tapping the often used contact. Raising the phone to his ear, he hears a raspy, familiar voice.

“Angel?”

“Anthony!” He doesn’t fight the tears anymore. The sound of Crowley‘s voice causing a dam to break. “Darling, are you okay?”

“Right now, yeah.” Aziraphale can hear another man’s voice. That’s not good. “I’m in the backseat of a Maybach. It’s one of those luxury cars from action movies that has the two backseats facing each other. These people got more money than we do, this car’s super rare.”

“You’re not alone, are you?” Aziraphale stares daggers at the woman before him. “Are you in danger?”

“No and I’m not real sure.” A pause. “Are you safe? Hildebas-. Hilderbert’s mom said if I came with her and got in the car, they’d drop all charges against you.”

“They did. What about you, did the police release you from custody?”

“Yeah, last night. I tried to stay at the station but they ran me off.” Crowley sounds so tired. Aziraphale wants nothing more right now than to hold him. “Mom Hilderbert found me at the cabin. I wasn’t leaving this city without you.”

“Yes. She’s standing in front of me right now.” _You amazingly sweet man_. “I’m going to follow her outside to you.”

“Aziraphale. Dove. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I love you Anthony.” Charity gestures for him to hurry it along. Aziraphale nods. “I’ll see you in a moment.”

He hangs up before Crowley can respond. Placing the phone back in his pocket, Aziraphale follows Charity past the long line of cells, booking and the stations waiting area.

Outside, the temperature is cooler than it has been on the previous days, a promise of rain in the air. A cherry red luxury car waits feet from the station’s entrance. Aziraphale walks in daze, everything about the last 12 hours too much to process right now. Memories swarming in an attempt to suffocate him, but he needs to keep walking. Crowley’s in that car and Aziraphale needs to be with him for whatever is coming next.

A tall woman stands beside the vehicle, opening the rear door at their approach. Crowley is watching Aziraphale from the backseat, a burly man seated on the other side of him. It’s obvious he’s afraid, his eyes screaming, _Run Angel!_ At this moment he wishes he had ran off with him last night when Crowley begged him to go.

Aziraphale slides into the seat beside his husband, forcing the poor dear closer to the strange man beside him. Charity sets across from them, another bulking man next to her. The driver shuts the door and proceeds to put herself behind the wheel.

Crowley doesn’t miss a beat. The second Aziraphale is settled, his left arm is around the blond’s waist protectively.

“Whatever you’re planning.” Aziraphale begins. “I’m the one who hurt your son, Anthony was merely a bystander. There is no reason to harm him.”

Crowley squeezes Aziraphale against his side and shakes his head violently. “No! No, no, no. Aziraphale was defending me. You’re son tried to....” Crowley gags on the words. Aziraphale can see the pain caused by what so nearly happened to him. Crowley closes his eyes and breathes out heavily. “Your son and his friends planned to hurt me, hurt us both. What Aziraphale did was protect us from whatever god-awful thing they planned to do.”

“I know.” Charity bites her lip, Aziraphale notices for the first time how heartbroken she looks. “I have cameras everywhere but my office. Not only did I see it all, but Luke confessed. Seems he was very upset at seeing what Fen tried to do to you in the restroom.” She nods towards Crowley. “This is why my son will now be forced to receive the help he needs, and you’ll both be left alone to go about your lives.”

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale isn’t entirely sure he’s heard her correctly.

“If you indulge me, I’d like to tell you a story.” Charity’s posture is stoic, but on closer inspection Aziraphale can see she is tired. Dark circles lowlight her emerald eyes along with deep lines.

Aziraphale gives her a nod to continue.

“Thank you.” She folds her hands in her lap. “Twenty-eight years ago, I met a man. He was tall, strong and beyond handsome.” She smiles sadly. “Charming too, but that only lasted a brief while.”

“He told me his dreams.” She looks up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “He had big ones. Go to school, become a high-powered lawyer. He just needed the money.” Her eyes flick to Crowley. “And against my father’s best advice, I gave it to him.”

Charity lifts a hand and rubs it across her forehead. “Before you judge me as totally foolish, I had been with him over a year at this point”

“I don’t think you were foolish at all.” Aziraphale is still unsure if he can trust Charity, but right now he can relate to her. “Sometimes love can blind us to danger, especially when the object of our affection uses that love against us.”

“Thank you.” Charity clears her throat. “Not long after, I deposited $500,000 into his banking account. A week later he requested another $600,00 and I, like a fool, conceded.”

“You’re not an fool.” Crowley’s voice is gruff, he places his free hand on Aziraphale’s knee and squeezes. Charity has no clue that Crowley’s words are actually aimed towards Aziraphale, not her, and that Crowley is silently telling Aziraphale in this moment, It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“It wasn’t until two weeks later, when he asked for another $200,000 that his façade broke.” Charity pauses, pursing her lips, she turns to look out the window. “I told him no, and he proceeded to hit me until I lost consciousness. When I woke up, he begged me not to tell anyone, and instead move away with him to Atlanta.”

Tears collect in the corners of her eyes and she quickly wipes them away. “I was able to avoid my parents for the few days it took my bruises to heal. But as soon as I was presentable, I informed them both, in person, of my intent to move away. That was when my father informed me he had hired a private detective to look into Gabriel’s past.”

Aziraphale’s blood turns to ice, a vice clamping down onto his lungs. There is no way. No way in Hell it’s the same Gabriel.

“What the fuck?” Crowley whispers.

Charity, too engrossed in her story, doesn’t notice the looks of shock on her companions’ faces. “By his late twenties he had already left a trail of abuse behind him. Three men and another woman, each of which he had milked dry of their middle-class incomes and left broken, bruised and with enough fear not to press charges. Thank heavens my father stepped in when he did, as it seems those poor souls had eventually suffered sexual abuse as well.”

“Did you press charges?” The question sounds surprisingly calm coming from Aziraphale’s mouth. He’s exhausted and has been stressed for too many hours. When all of this hits him later, it’s going to be a lot to deal with and relive again. But for now he doesn’t feel like he’s actually here, almost like he’s watching a program on tv.

“I didn’t.” She shakes her head. “I felt too ashamed to admit to my father what it happened. I _was_ wise enough to take my father with me when I broke it off with Gabriel, however.” Charity blushes. “The fact I had money and family made it easier for me to escape with very little damage.”

“Do you know where Gabriel went?” Aziraphale knows he should stop, but can’t.

“I honestly didn’t care at first.” Charity picks absentmindedly at the hem of her skirt. “A month after we split I found out I was two and a half months pregnant. I became too consumed with preparing for and then raising a baby to waste any energy on my horrible ex. It wasn’t until Fen was two that I woke one morning afraid. I realized Gabriel could try to come back for the baby and I wanted to make sure he was content and far enough gone, that he wouldn’t try to lay a claim to my child.”

“And?” Aziraphale’s pushes, he can feel the pressure accumulating in his eyes.

“Don’t, Angel.” Crowley whispers.

Charity looks the couple over questioningly. “I was told he had settled in Florida with a man a ten years his junior. A beautiful young thing, so I’d heard, who had no family and came from wealth.” She looks down at her lap and sighs. “I hate to think of what became of that lovely young creature.”

“He came out of that situation just fine.” The tears slide freely across Aziraphale’s face. “Oh, he suffered. He was broken and tortured, but eventually got away as well.” He watches as the astonished realization of what he’s implying settles into Charity’s soft features. “But don’t worry over him, my dear lady. He is more loved now than you could ever possibly imagine.”

“Oh my God.” Charity raises her hands to her mouth in horror. “And with what Fen did to you both.” Her hands tremble. “And the way Fen looks.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale lifts his chin in a show of strength. It helps that Crowley is still touching him, holding him tightly in support. “Your son, I’m sorry to say, looks and acts a lot like his father.”

The Maybach comes to a stop outside their cabin. “I’m very pleased you’re getting your son the help he needs.” Aziraphale continues before she can offer any sort of sympathy or condolences. He can’t handle that right now from the woman whose son tried to rape his husband. “And thank you ever so much for dropping the charges against me.” He reaches for the door. “But my husband and I have one day left of a tragically ruined anniversary weekend and I would like to try and enjoy it.”

“And I won’t keep you much longer.” Charity sounds urgent now. “But there is something else I’d like to discuss, if you’d permit me to visit on your porch.”

“Listen, ma’am.” Crowley doesn’t hide his irritation. “No offense, but he’s been through too much this weekend and I don’t think he needs to deal with more.”

“Just one question then, please.” She begs.

Aziraphale stops, one foot out the car door. “Go ahead.”

“Where are you from?” She says sweetly.

“I’m not comfortable with giving you that information.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand, suddenly frightened again.

“I understand.” Charity waves them on. “Take comfort in knowing, Fen will get the help he needs and other than payments for treatment I will make sure he never has access to my family’s wealth and power.” She reaches out, as if to take Aziraphale’s hand and then seems to think better of it. “Do you feel like God or fate throw people together on purpose, so that we can be forced to accept things we would normally choose not to see?”

“I think God just plays games with us.” Crowley grouses.

“Maybe.” Charity concedes. “But I intentionally remained blind to my sons many faults until it got him badly injured.” She holds her hands up in front of herself. “Not that he didn’t deserve it.”

“Again thank you for everything.” Aziraphale quickly exits the vehicle before she can speak again, Crowley close behind.

As Charity and company drive into the distance, Aziraphale walks with Crowley onto the cabin’s porch.

“I’m so tired Anthony.” He looks down at his blood speckled shirt and shivers. “Can we shower and just spend this last day cuddled in bed?”

“Whatever you need Angel.” Crowley pulls him close, leaving a kiss in feather soft curls.

* * *

**June 1, A Year and a Half Later**

“Oh! You both look so handsome!” Aziraphale beams at his children. Warlock, lean with his wispy, shoulder length hair pulled back in a loose half bun, stands as tall as Aziraphale. Adam is broader from football conditioning and is as tall as Crowley. His sandy curls, not exactly short, but wild and just above his ears.

“I’m kinda excited.” Warlock looks down at himself, sliding his hands over his beige trousers and red polo. On the left breast pocket is stitched the words **Piggly Wiggly** just below his name tag.

“Me too.” Adam, in a matching work uniform to his brother, bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Smile for me.” Crowley holds his phone up to take a photo. Adam with a closed lip grin, hands at his sides and Warlock, all teeth, hands clasped in front of him, pose for their Dad.

After snapping three photos, Crowley gestures for Aziraphale to join them. “Get in there, Angel.”

Aziraphale complies, a series of pictures are taken, then Crowley switches spots with Aziraphale to pose in a few of his own.

“I’m so proud of both of you.” Aziraphale gushes. “You’re such good, responsible young men.”

A few weeks earlier, right before Adam and Warlock’s 16th birthday, Crowley and Aziraphale had set down for an important discussion with their children. They talked about responsibility, the importance of making your own way in life, understanding the value of a dollar and a hard day’s work. And most importantly, that they should never believe they are entitled to anyone or anything just because they come from wealth.

It was decided, that both boys, after getting their drivers licenses, would get jobs and work to purchase their own cars and insurance. Warlock and Adam had agreed, the deal being if they got and kept said jobs, their parents would cosign for each to get an affordable used cars.

Also, from this point on Warlock and Adam would be responsible for their own spending money.

Aziraphale hugs his children, kissing them each on the cheek. “I hope you both have a wonderful shift, and if you need anything call me.”

“Will do Pops.” Warlock says, racing to beat his brother to the front passenger seat of Crowley’s car.

“Be back in a few.” Crowley kisses his husband’s lips. “You need anything from town after I drop them off?”

“Just you.” Aziraphale discreetly grabs Crowley’s ass.

“I can provide.” The red-head’s eyes glint with mischief.

“I’ll be waiting.” Aziraphale smiles coyly, before turning to walk into the house. “The door will be locked. Let yourself in and head directly to the bedroom on your return.”

He doesn’t wait for Crowley’s response before walking inside and getting everything ready. An added bonus of children working, is Crowley won’t need to skip lunch breaks anymore. They have five evenings a week kid free.


End file.
